Walk Two Lifetimes
by Coolio101
Summary: Surviving in the 78th district of South Rukongai was tough. When you were a ten-year-old girl with a baby to take care of, it was even harder. Getting reincarnated as Kuchiki Hisana after dying of cancer was never part of the plan. OC-fic
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is just something I've been thinking about writing for a while. I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this, but the plot bunnies wouldn't leave so here it is. If enough people express interest in it, I might continue. If not…well…*shrugs*._

Prologue

Being reincarnated into the Bleach world after dying of cancer- it sounds like the summary to one of those crappy fanfictions you hear about. The girl becomes friends with Ichigo and company early on, gets endowed with awesome powers, amazes everyone with her mad deductive skillz and insights into the future (that totally didn't come from having no social life in a past incarnation and watching way too much anime, really), kicks some bad guy ass and ends up with anywhere from two to seven guys after saving the day. Unfortunately for me, my luck bailed out right after 'reincarnated into Bleach-verse after dying of cancer', so I didn't get the rest of the nice, convenient Mary-Sue package. Instead of being reborn into twenty-first century Japan with the benefits of modern technology (like flushable toilets, for instance), I was born a little over a hundred and fifty years ago. Far from having Orihime-esque powers, I ended up with no powers besides the ability to see souls and hollows from birth (I suspected my experience with death may have contributed to that), and fuzzy memories of maybe the first two or three Bleach arcs. The worst thing though, was being reborn into possibly the only character in the entire Bleach-verse who died because of _sickness_, which, to someone like me who knew her hospital room better than her own bedroom, was like a cruel joke. Dying a slow, drawn-out, painful, hopeless death once was bad enough, but _twice_? I was beginning to think I was cursed.

Chapter 1

The worst thing about dying of cancer, I decided, wasn't the dying of cancer part, ironically enough. Well, the dying of cancer part sucked balls, but it wasn't the worst part. The absolute, worst fucking part was that I spent four years studying my ass off at undergrad and then another near-decade at medical school, interning and completing my residency, and on top of that had spent a year working as an army medic as part of my contract to pay off med-school and _I still hadn't seen the signs._ To be fair, when you're working in the army, little things like weariness and bruises are easily brushed off when you're dealing with gunshot wounds, 3rd degree burns and working eighteen hours a day. As it is, when my body finally gave out on me and I collapsed from exhaustion, I was told that I had 3rd stage acute leukemia and that my chances weren't good. My contract with the government was terminated and I was confined to a hospital bed. My friends' and family's reactions varied. Mom burst into tears and ran out of the room. My strict, no-nonsense, accept-nothing-less-than-the-absolute-best dad looked like he'd just been told that the world was ending…either that or that American football was canceled forever. Takami Kobe, proud otaku and my best friend since college freshman year, yelled at me for ten minutes straight about how I was an idiot, and what was the point of even going to med school if I couldn't even diagnose myself, before storming away. He came back the next day with an armful of cancer books, a determined look on his face, and my favorite Starbucks drink—a caramel macchiato—as an apology. Dave, my asshole older brother, aimed a punch at my face and when I moved to dodge, redirected it at my shoulder and lightly hit it. With a muttered, "Christina, you bitch, you better not die," he then turned away to hide suspiciously red eyes. Henry, my sweetheart 6-year-old nephew and my favorite person in the world, just hugged me before looking up with wide eyes and asking, "You're gonna be okay, right, Aunt Christina?" At the time, I'd just hugged him back before reassuring him that, "Heck yeah, it's going to take more than some rebelling cells to do me in." Looking back, I regret making that promise. In my last few days, I regretted a lot of things about my life, but I think being unable to keep my promise to Henry was my biggest one.

Day One A.D. (After Death)

Well, now I know why people don't remember their births. Being squeezed through your mother's vaginal channel is…fucking traumatizing. No wonder babies come into the world screaming.

While at first I was confused as to why it felt like I was being squeezed painfully through a warm, wet rubber tube when I thought I'd died, it really wasn't that difficult to figure out what was happening after hearing the words, "Congratulations, Yukimura-san. It's a girl!" I wasn't even that surprised by the reincarnation part—I've found that you tend to contemplate the afterlife a lot more when you only have a few weeks, at most, to live. I'd thought about heaven, hell, oblivion, reincarnation. So I wasn't all that surprised that I was reincarnated. What I didn't expect, or want, was to still have all my memories from my previous life.

Day Two A.D.

Yukimura Hisana. That's my new name. I suppose as names go, it definitely could have been worse. Hisana sounds pretty. Delicate. Refined and gentle. The only problem is, it doesn't sound like me.

Day Four A.D.

People always say that learning a foreign language is a useful skill. All I can say is, amen to that. Never have I been so grateful that I decided to minor in Japanese language and culture in college. That semester I spent abroad in Japan helped as well. Thank you, thank you Takami for convincing me to learn Japanese. Waking up in the body of a newborn infant was bad enough, I don't even want to think about how nightmarish this ordeal would be if I couldn't understand the language. As it is, from my information gathering, I have found out that not only have I been born in a different country, I've been born into a different era entirely. One without the benefits of modern technology. Fuck my life.

Day Fourteen A.D.

I remember thinking sometimes on my bad days, when I was being pumped full of chemo drugs and nauseous from the radiation, that as painful and hopeless dying was, at least I wasn't on the other side of the hospital bed. I'd rather die ten deaths than watch someone I loved wither away slowly as their body gradually killed them. _At least I won't have to mourn,_ I thought. Now, stuck in a different country, a different century, with no way of seeing my family or friends again, I can't help but think that irony is a cruel, cruel bitch.

Day Twenty-One A.D.

It's funny, though at first I was endlessly frustrated at how weak my new body was, now I'm grateful for it. The fact that my body's brain hasn't fully developed yet, that I now require three times as much sleep as I used to—all of it serves as a buffer from reality. I am now physically unable to comprehend as much as I used to in my 32-year-old body, and I am eternally thankful for that.

Day Thirty-One A.D.

I find myself sleeping quite a bit more than I strictly need to. My new parents are worried, I can tell. Selfish as it may seem, I can't bring myself to care. When I'm asleep, I don't think about all the things I've lost. It seems silly-I'm over thirty years old mentally, I should be more independent than this. I shouldn't be so reliant on my family. I should be overjoyed to get a second chance at life after my previous one was cut short. Takami would punch me if he saw how I was behaving and yell at me to quit moping around. Familiarity is just one of those things you only appreciate, I guess, when you're thrown into a place where everything is different.

Day Forty-Two A.D.

I've realized that the Takami-voice in my head is right. Being this angsty really isn't like me. What the hell am I so upset about anyway? It's not like my parents, Dave, Henry, Takami and the others are dead. They're probably way better off than me in any case, by simple virtue of the fact that at least they don't have to get their diapers changed. And while they'll miss me, I know they won't let my death stop them from living. I'll miss them too, and I'll always remember them, but honestly, a month and a half old is really too young to be dealing with depression.

One Year A.D.

Thank god for all the times Dave made me babysit Henry. I wouldn't have a clue how to act like a normal baby otherwise. As it is, I'm timing all of my firsts (first word, first time crawling, first time walking, etc.) to Henry's.

Two Years A.D.

I stared. The ghost—for there was really no other way to describe it—stared back.

"Wha—how—you-dead!" I shriek, reverting back to English in my panic, arms gesticulating wildly, waving between the spirit and its pale, cold and very dead body still lying on the bed. Two years had given me plenty of time to accept my new situation, and I felt that I was adjusting very well to life all things considered, but that this new world I had been born in apparently had ghosts was something I was finding difficult to swallow. It was my first time seeing someone die since being reborn, something that would have happened eventually given the fact that my parents were the only doctors in the village. So far, they had done a fairly good job of shielding my toddler eyes from death. Not that it was the death part that bothered me—I had seen my fair share of people die as a doctor, myself included—but the shade wandering around with a giant chain sticking out of its chest made my head hurt.

"Hisana-chan?" Yukimura Asuka, aka my new mother, asked concernedly, walking towards me. She picked me up and began humming soothingly. Her eyes, though they betrayed her weariness and sadness, gave no sign that she saw the ghost now looking at me curiously. I continued to gape at the spirit, scrutinizing the chain hanging from its chest. Something about that looked familiar.

"Ah, can you see me little one?" The ghost inquired with a smile. He was taking the whole death thing a heck of a lot better than I did, though the fact that he looked to be in his mid-eighties may have had something to do with it. Poor geezer had probably expected to kick the bucket any day now.

"Don't be sad. I've lived a good, long life and I've known that my time was coming for quite a while now, although I must confess this wasn't what I expected the afterlife to be like," he chuckled. Well, that makes two of us. "It's interesting that you seem to be the only one that can see me though," he mused. "Well, since there's really nothing I have to do now, I suppose I'll keep you company for a while."

And he did. I discovered that while Adachi-san—the ghost—could interact with things (J.K. Rowling had been _so_ wrong) and that he could touch living things (i.e. me) with no problems, no one else seemed to have the ability to see or hear him. "Perhaps it is your age that allows you to see me," he theorized, "Children have the ability to see and accept a great number of things that adults cannot."

Perhaps that was true, but considering that I had the mentality of someone in her thirties, I rather doubted that theory applied to me. I personally thought that the fact that I remembered my previous death had a lot to do with it. After all, experiencing death probably made me a lot more sensitive to all things death-related, right?

It was on the third day Adachi-san spent with me that something changed. If he hadn't been telling me a story about his Good Old Days (and if I hadn't felt that it would be rude of me, toddler or not, if I fell asleep in the middle of it), I probably would have missed the entire thing. As it was, I was very much awake when in the middle of the night some random guy dressed in a black robe appeared in my house. I was about to open my mouth to scream and protest this very blatant breaking and entering when the guy pulled out a sharp, very deadly looking katana. I closed my mouth and tried not to whimper. Adachi-san went pale. The possible murderous-psychopath-with-a-sword sighed.

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you. All I'm going to do is send you off to the afterlife, where you belong." The guy gave a reassuring smile. Considering the fact that he still had his sword in hand, it wasn't very reassuring. Apparently Adachi-san thought so too, since he retorted, "What's with the sword, then? I didn't know getting stabbed and dying twice was a requirement for moving on."

Huh. That sounded positively snarky. I didn't think kind, gentle Adachi had it in him. A part of me, the part that wasn't chanting _please don't kill me, please don't notice me, I'm too young to die_ was proud of him.

"Kami, I hate doing this," the guy groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Who invented the idea of performing konso using zanpakuto anyway? I'm not going to stab you. All I'm going to do is place the hilt of my zanpakuto against your forehead, I swear. It's going to happen regardless of whether or not you fight, so just agree and we can get this over with." Adachi glanced at me, resigned. Well, I suppose it was hope the guy was telling the truth and let him do his thing or wander around the Earth as a spirit forever. When you thought about it, it really wasn't much of a choice.

"Well, I suppose this is goodbye then, Hisana-chan. May we someday meet again, though hopefully not for a very long time." He smiled at me and I felt a twinge of pain in my chest. I swallowed. Boring stories or not, I'd grown kinda fond of the old man. Adachi turned to the grim reaper, or whatever the hell he was, and I watched as the reaper placed the hilt of the sword against Adachi's forehead. As Adachi faded away, a peaceful look overcoming his features, a wave of déjà vu washed over me. I ignored it, lifting up an arm and giving him one last wave behind the reaper's back. He winked at me just before disappearing. The Japanese grim reaper dude then looked around the room, his eyes settling briefly on me, before vanishing out the door quicker than I could blink.

It was only after my heart settled down and I finished processing the fact that Adachi was dead—and gone for good this time—that it hit me why the scene had looked so familiar. The chain sticking out of Adachi's chest, the black kimono-robe outfit the death god wore, the 'konso' ritual and the 'zanpakuto'—strange, it all reminded me of an anime Takami had once shown me.

Of course, that was ridiculous. I could accept being reincarnated in a different time with all my memories intact. After all, who knew how death worked? And even in my past life, there'd always been those stories of people who claimed to remember a previous life. But being reborn not in a past time, but in a whole different _universe?_ One that existed only as a manga in my home world? That was a bit far-fetched, even for me. Really, the only thing the similarities between what I had just witnessed and Takami's favorite anime—what was it called again? Detergent? Soap? Bleach? Something stupid like that—proved was that some manga artist had gotten a few things right about the afterlife. In no way did it prove that I was actually _in_ a fictional world. Still, no matter how hard I tried to tell myself that even the very _idea_ was preposterous, an uneasy feeling remained in my gut. Either way, it was too early to tell. In order to prove the I've-been-reincarnated-into-an-anime theory right (or hopefully, wrong), I needed more evidence. I sighed. In the meantime, I would try to dredge up what little knowledge I had about the Bleach-verse from the one or two arcs Takami had forced me to watch when he'd first met me. Easier said than done. Takami could probably list each and every character's abilities, age, birthday and eye color. Me? All I could remember at the moment was that the dorky librarian dude turned out to be some kind of evil mastermind and was after something called the Hoggy-whatsit.

Seven Years A.D.

I found the proof I was looking for, though not the proof I was hoping to find, five years later. It had been a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. The only thing wrong with the picture was the gigantic butt-ugly monster with a hole in its chest terrorizing the populace like something out of a bad horror movie.

The hollow (for it could only be a hollow, no matter how hard I tried to deny it), suddenly turned, knocking over a fruit-stall in the process. I froze, hoping against hope that it wouldn't notice me. Maybe, like in Jurassic Park, it wouldn't notice me if I didn't move? No such luck. Its eyes latched onto me and it grinned, revealing a mouth full of rows and rows of sharp, jagged teeth. My stomach dropped and I felt nauseous. _Run,_ I urged myself, _move, you stupid legs, move!_

"Well, well, what do we have here?" It rasped, pincher-like arms shoving a cart full of fish over. "A spiritually-aware human? Today must be my lucky day." _Now would be a great time for those soul reapers to show up,_ I thought faintly. The hollow moved closer. Luckily, this had the effect of shaking off the terror-induced trance I was in.

"Stay back, you stupid over-sized crab!" I shrieked in a moment of panic-induced insanity. Then, pointing to something over the hollow's shoulder, I yelled, "About time you got here, shinigami!" When the hollow turned to look, I bolted. Oldest trick in the book or not, I wasn't going to complain if it worked.

I sprinted for my life, ducking around buildings, stalls, and people confusedly looking around for the invisible being destroying property left and right, ignoring the hollow's calls of "Get back here!" and "That was a dirty trick!"

"Well, you fell for it, dumbass," I yelled back. About ten seconds into my escape, I'd realized that though the hollow was currently fixated on me and ignoring the myriad of people milling about, there was no guarantee that it wouldn't decide to go after someone else instead should it lose sight of me. And, curse my guilty conscience, I couldn't let it chomp on some other poor soul. Though my chances of winning against the hollow were approximately nil, the odds would be even more stacked against someone who couldn't even _see_ it. So instead, I led it through the less populated streets and towards the forest. Hopefully, with the increased cover and without having to worry about someone getting hurt, I could stall until a shinigami finally arrived. That is, if a shinigami arrived. I didn't even want to contemplate what would happen if the shinigami in charge of watching over this village was taking a nap or something.

Thankfully, Kami was on my side today, and so a shinigami arrived just as I dove behind some bushes. The hollow, as stupid as it seemed to be, didn't stand a chance as the shinigami was actually kind of competent, and so five minutes later I witnessed it fading away. After dispatching the hollow, the shinigami looked around, frowning briefly. My heart nearly stopped when his eyes landed on the bushes I was hiding in. _Don't notice me_, I prayed. I had no desire to get my memories erased. Fortunately for me, the shinigami either didn't notice, or didn't care enough to investigate my presence and disappeared shortly after. As soon as I was sure the shinigami wasn't going to come back, I collapsed breathlessly on the ground. My pulse thudded in my ear as I tried to calm my breathing. After a while, I made my way back to my house, trying to ignore the way my legs were shaking.

My father looked up as I entered the house. "Hisana, you're back," he said smiling. "I heard there was some commotion at the marketplace today. I'm glad you weren't caught up in it." A hint of concern crossed over his face when he inspected me more carefully. "You're a bit pale, Hisana. Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, Otou-san. Just a bit tired today. I'm going to take a nap, okay?" I told him, trying for a reassuring smile. Judging from his expression, I didn't completely succeed, but he didn't argue. Crossing into my room, I pulled out the journal I'd asked my father for when I turned four. He'd bought it for me under the impression I wanted it for drawing on. Instead, I'd filled it with every scrap of knowledge about Bleach that I'd managed to scrounge up from the depths of my memories—a surprising amount. Flipping through the pages, I scanned the notes I'd taken, all in English. Turning to a new page, I scrawled, **Theory confirmed by hollow sighting. Am living in an anime world. Situation: FUBAR.**

I stared down at the words I'd just written. Funny, they kind of looked like a death sentence. Turning around, I throw the journal at the wall as hard as I can. It doesn't make me feel any better.

Nine Years A.D.

It took another two years for me to realize just who I had been reincarnated in. You see, though I found out I was now in the Bleach-verse, I'd assumed that I was just reborn into some random person with no real importance in the greater scheme of things. That assumption died a rather spectacular death when at dinner, with no warning, my mother blurted out, "I'm pregnant." I choked on my rice. Dad began coughing on air. Mom had been getting sick a lot lately and she'd been acting nervous all day. Dad and I had begun speculating what was wrong after she spilled water all over a patient. As people who both made a living healing people, we really should have guessed what was up. We didn't, and I was starting to wonder if I was just a failure at diagnosing anyone who had a personal connection to me.

"What?" He spluttered. I pounded him on the back helpfully. "Asuka! This is wonderful! How long have you known?"

"Well, the symptoms are very similar to the ones present when I was pregnant with Hisana," she answered. "I started experiencing nausea a few weeks ago and recently I began developing a bump on my stomach." A worried expression crossed her face as she turned to me. "Hisana? How do you feel about this? I know this is a bit sudden."

"It's great, Kaa-san. I can't wait to be a big sister," I said sincerely. A warm giddy feeling was spreading through my chest and I couldn't help but smile. _A younger sibling!_ "So do you want it to be a girl or a boy?"

"I wouldn't mind a boy," she said sighing, "but I just have a feeling this one is going to be a girl. Call it a mother's intuition."

"Well, I don't mind. I'm going to be a big sister either way," I grinned. "It's a bit early, but do you have any names in mind yet?" My father laughed. "This is all on your mother, kid. The agreement was that I got to name the first kid we had, and she got to name any kids that came after."

"I've been considering a few," Mom said thoughtfully, "In case I'm wrong and it is a boy after all, I was thinking Hikaru—light and brightness. What do you think?"

"It's a good name. I like it," I decided. "And if it's a girl?"

"Rukia. I've always liked that name. It's a lovely name, unique, and I have a good feeling about it," she mused.

"It's perfect! I approve! Should we have a daughter, Rukia she will be!" Dad boomed heartily, leaning forward to embrace her. It was a good thing he did, since it prevented either of them from noticing how I'd frozen. _Rukia. Could it be? What are the chances? How many other Rukias born in Edo Japan are there?_ I shook my head. No, this wasn't the time to contemplate things. Pasting a smile on my face, I forced myself to finish the rest of my dinner, hoping that I didn't look as sick as I felt. Luckily, both of my parents were too distracted to notice me much and so my quietness was left unquestioned. As soon as dinner was over, I calmly walked to my room and shut the door. As soon as I'd guaranteed myself some privacy (I had no doubt my parents would be too busy 'celebrating' to bother me), I ripped my journal out from under my futon and frantically searched through the pages. I stopped. There, about halfway through the book, I found what I was looking for. **Kuchiki H.: Sister to Kuchiki Rukia. Wife to Kuchiki Byakuya. Abandoned Rukia when Rukia was a baby and spent the rest of her life regretting it. Died shortly after marrying Byakuya. Made him promise to find Rukia and take her in.**

Honestly, there wasn't much on the person I suspected I'd been reincarnated into. I hadn't even remembered her name; only that it had started with an 'H'. What I _did_ remember was that she'd wasted away because of some unknown illness. _Was it even possible for a disease to carry across lifetimes?_ I asked myself slightly hysterically. Of course, there was always the chance that I was completely wrong and that _this_ Rukia was completely unrelated to _Kuchiki_ Rukia, but…let's face it…my luck wasn't that good. And now that I knew what to look for, I couldn't deny the physical similarities between myself and canon Rukia. The shoulder length hair, the strand of hair that fell over my face, the violet eyes—I hadn't seen it before, simply because the last time I'd seen these features they'd been present in an two-dimensional anime character, but now it was so glaringly obvious I couldn't dismiss it. And then, as if discovering that I was the older sister of one of the main characters in an anime filled with constant danger, bloodshed and betrayal wasn't enough, I remembered that Rukia and Hisana died in the living world when Rukia was a baby. Which meant that I had little over a year to live. Shit.

Ten Years and Two Months A.D.

"Ahhhhh!" Another piercing scream split the air. I winced. There was a reason I never even considered becoming a midwife. Dad had forbidden me from being in the room, so I was saved from having to witness my new sibling being shoved out of my mom's vagina, but the shrieks of pure agony alone were making me cringe in sympathy. The labor seemed to take forever—I'd spent the last couple of hours bravely hiding in my room and covering my ears. Right then and there, I vowed, _Never never _never_ am I _ever_ going to give birth. Adoption is looking like a fine course of action right now._

"Just a little more, Asuka!" How Dad could sound so excited when his wife was in unimaginable pain, I didn't know. "I can see its head coming through! Just push a little more!"

"Screw you, Seichi! You have no damn idea how it feels, so wipe that idiotic grin off your face!" Mom snapped back. I might have been shocked at hearing my polite, refined mother swearing at the top of her lungs if she hadn't been doing it for the past six hours now. Finally, _finally_, after what seemed like another six hours but was probably only about five minutes, I heard the sound of a baby's crying. All of a sudden, I couldn't breathe. This…Rukia's birth would be the start of everything. While Kurosaki Ichigo may have been the hurricane of revolution that swept through Soul Society and changed everything, Kuchiki Rukia provided the catalyst for it to happen. No matter what occurred from now on, I could kiss my chance of having a normal life goodbye. As Rukia's older sister, my actions would inevitably influence her and by default, have an impact on the future and, well—there was no other way to put it- fate of the world. At that moment, I can't even describe how in over my head I felt. I'd known, of course, ever since I'd figured out exactly who I'd been reborn as, that I would have a lot of responsibility on my shoulders. It just never clicked in _how much_. While I was having the existentialist crisis of a lifetime, the door opened.

"Hisana! Come meet your new—what are you doing lying on the ground like that?" My dad asked. I blinked, looking around. Huh. In the midst of the mini panic attack I was having, I hadn't even noticed my legs giving out on me.

"Uh, well, I just felt overwhelmed! I mean, I've been an only child all my life and now…I'm not." I winced at my idiotic excuse. My dad gave me a strange look, but luckily was too excited to question it further. "Well, get off the floor and come on in! It was a hard labor"—tell me about it—"but your mother's doing fine and the baby's as healthy as can be! You now have a new sister; as usual, your mother's intuition was correct."

Entering my parents' bedroom, I found Mom sitting up in bed, looking sweaty and tired but radiant nonetheless. And in her arms was…

"Is that her?" I whispered, gaping slightly. Smiling, my mom nodded and motioned for me to come closer. Gently, she placed Rukia in my arms and guided me through how to hold her properly. "Hisana, meet your sister Rukia. Rukia-chan, this is your Hisana-neechan. Say hello, will you?"

Rukia opened her eyes at my mom's voice and peered at me curiously with solemn, indigo eyes so similar to my own. I gazed back, feeling something like awe settle over me. So fragile, so innocent…at that moment it didn't matter what the future held. It didn't matter that she was going to be a key player in a world where danger was the only constant. At that moment, all that mattered was that she was my baby sister and that I was going to do my damned best to keep her safe.

Ten Years and Eight Months A.D.

It's a curious sensation, knowing that in all likelihood you are probably going to die within the year. I'd gone through it once as Christina Dalton and I was going through it again as Yukimura Hisana. With no way of knowing how the original Rukia and Hisana died, I had no way to prevent it from happening (that didn't mean that I wouldn't _try_ though). If my parents noticed that I became much clingier over the last few months, they didn't mention it. I didn't know if they died too, or if I would ever see them again but it didn't matter. Ever since Rukia was born I spent every waking minute with them. I shadowed my mom around the house, studying almost obsessively how she cared for Rukia. She thought it was adorable and would always comment on what a 'wonderful big sister I was'.

I also followed Dad around like a baby duckling, watching and occasionally helping him treat patients and listening as he taught me about the different medicinal plants and herbs he used. Asian medicine was fascinating, and something I'd never really explored in my past life. Dad was thrilled with my interest in healing.

"I swear, you just pick some of this stuff right up," he chuckled. "I think you know more about the human body than I do sometimes." Yeah Dad, having two decades of learning experience behind you will do that to a person. Still, for all my ability to diagnose diseases, setting bones, wrapping wounds and prescribing medicines, it was another thing entirely to _make_ your own remedies with plants found in the marketplace and the nearby forest.

I didn't think about our impending deaths. If there's one thing I've learned, it's to not depress yourself thinking about things you can't change.

4:42 a.m., October 27, 1855

One minute I'm dreaming of chocolate chip cookies (something that was sadly lacking in my new life) and the next moment I'm yanked brutally out of dreamland and into reality. At first I'm confused as to what woke me; the next instant my question is answered when another violent shake knocks me back onto my futon. In the next room, I can hear Rukia start to cry. The door opens and Dad walks in, looking tired but otherwise alright.

"Are you alright?" He asks. I nod and another shake forces him down. After another few minutes of waiting, nothing else happens. "It doesn't appear to be major. Just a few tremors and no one seems to be hurt. Go back to sleep." He tells me, reaching out and ruffling my hair. I drift back into sleep, too tired to pay attention to the sliver of unease in the back of my mind.

8:13 a.m.

"Hey Hisana-chan, look at this!" Takeru, the nine-year-old son of the local butcher calls out excitedly. I look up from where I've been perusing today's selection of fish, idly deciding what I want to have for lunch. Takeru is pointing towards the ocean, or more specifically, the beach where I can see the tide receding leaving behind wide stretches of sand. I frown; shouldn't the low tide have passed already? "Come on, let's go check it out!" He leaves just as I freeze, a terrible, awful realization starting to form in my mind. The fuzzy memories from this morning come back in full force. The earthquake. The receding tide. Living in _Japan_, a place with more fault lines than California. _Oh Kami, no._

"Tsunami," I whisper out, horrified. The vendor, Ishibashi Kou, looks at me concernedly.

"Hisana-chan? Are you feeling well? You look awfully pale. Perhaps you ought to go home and rest for a bit?" He asks. I swallow hard, looking around. This village, all these people…how much time do I have? How many people will die? The villagers seem to have no concept of what a tsunami is, the way they bustle happily about their normal lives, oblivious to the receding water and what it means. I can't possibly save everyone; my priority is Rukia…Rukia! I balk, startling the vendor, and start running home. Before I've taken five steps, I hesitate and look back at Ishibashi-san, who stares back at me with worry in his kind eyes. Ishibashi-san, who taught me how to catch and prepare a fish. Ishibashi-san, who had given Mom two fish for free when he heard that she was pregnant. Ishibashi-san, who had no clue he was in danger. I made up my mind. Time limit or not, I couldn't just leave him there with no warning.

"Ishibashi-san!" I blurt out. "Listen to me. There's no time to explain, but in a few minutes, a giant wave is going to be heading this way. You need to get yourself and your family to higher ground as soon as possible, and tell anyone you meet to do the same."

"Hisana-chan—what—you can't be serious," he splutters. I can already see him beginning to protest, and I cut him off hurriedly.

"I'm deadly serious. Lives could depend, _do _depend, on this. I have to go. Ishibashi-san, please," I beg and then I turn around and sprint for home as fast as I can, not turning around to see if he decided to listen or not. By the time I burst through the front door to my house, my lungs are burning and each breath feels like a struggle. Mom looks up from the kitchen counter with a frown.

"Hisana? What's the matter?" She asks.

"Where's Rukia?" I interrupt her. Without waiting for an answer, my eyes scan the room and land on Rukia, where she is in a makeshift basket/crib one of Dad's friends made. She's sleeping and I quickly pick her up. "Kaa-san, where is Tou-san?"

"He's away at the moment. Asari's father is sick again. Hisana, what is going on?" She demands.

"Look, there's a tsunami—a giant wave—coming our way. I don't know when it'll hit, but we have to be at higher ground by then." I say, urgently. How long has it been since I left Ishibashi-san? How long do I have left until it hits? Minutes? Seconds? Mom's face has turned pale and for a moment, I can only feel relieved that she believes me.

"I'd heard stories, but I didn't think…you're sure about this?" She demands sharply. I nod in confirmation. "I saw the tide receding. And with the earthquake this morning, I don't think that we need any more proof."

"Hisana, take Rukia and run as far as you can, you hear me? And," She grabs me by the arms urgently and looks me in the eye, "Swear to me that you'll do everything in your power to protect her, Hisana."

"I will," I whisper, "I promise." Something in her expression eases and her shoulders relax. "Good. I'll go find your dad." I turn to run, but hesitate in the doorway. What do you say to someone you love when you know, deep down inside, that it's the last time you'll ever see them? Mom seems to know what I'm thinking because her expression softens and she smiles calmly, as if this is just any other day and I've just told her I'll be out for a short walk. "I'll be fine," she comes forward and embraces me tightly as I breathe deeply and try to memorize her scent. She smells like clean cotton and herbs. "Just remember that no matter what happens, your father and I will always love you both. Now go and be safe. Run."

"I love you too," I choke out, and then I'm running as fast as I can out the door because I know that if I stay a second longer, I'll never be able to leave. The awful thing about our village is that all the buildings are short and it's mostly flat ground. My best chance is to get as far away from the ocean as I can and then scale a tree or something. However, as I look off into the distance and watch the biggest wave I've ever seen in either lifetime approach like the claw of a legendary sea monster, I can't help but think that I'm already too late.

10:36 a.m.

I cling to the tree as tightly as I can, even as I try my best to shield a screaming Rukia with my body, as waves upon waves of seemingly never ending water crash down all around me. I hold on to the tree like it's my only hope for salvation, and indeed it is, the sole lifeline keeping me from being washed away to sea. I'd only managed to reach the edge of the forest before the first wave hit, and I'd promptly thrown myself at the nearest, reasonably sturdy looking tree I could find. It had taken everything I had just to hold on as the wave crashed in, sweeping away everything in its path. The aftermath was the worst part though. As the wave receded, it was near impossible not to get pulled away with it.

Yet as bad as the first wave was, I'm coming to realize that the succeeding wave is much worse. It's only by sheer dumb luck that the tree I'm clinging to hasn't swept away yet. As the water pulls back, a large tree branch bumps into another tree which sends it straight at me. My body is tired and aching, my lungs are half filled with water and I'm bleeding from various cuts caused by debris. With only my legs and one arm (the other holding Rukia) holding on, I don't stand a chance when the branch crashes into me. With a choked yell, I'm knocked loose and I only just manage to hold onto Rukia. The last thing I hear before I go under is my mom's voice, _"Protect her, Hisana."_

_I'm sorry,_ I think, _I failed you, _and then the world goes black.

_Author's Note: Please leave a comment. What you liked/disliked about it, suggestions to make my writing better, if you want me to continue, etc. Each and every review makes my day, just no flames please!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: A big thank you to everyone who reviewed/favorited/followed this story! It really means a lot to me. This chapter was easier to write; I think I'm finally getting the flow down. Thirteen pages—enjoy!_

"Get back here, you dirty piece of shit!" An angry shout came from behind me. It was close. Too close.

Inwardly, I cursed. Usually they weren't this persistent; it was just my luck that I ended up stealing from a guy who wouldn't give up even after chasing me for ten minutes. Clutching my precious cargo, I wove through the streets, ducking behind people and stalls. Hopefully, I would lose him in the crowd soon. At least I didn't have to worry about someone helping him catch me. Altruistic acts of kindness didn't exist here.

First Rule of Rukongai: No one was going to help you. Here, it was every man for himself.

An arm grabbed me roughly around the elbow and shook me violently. I winced; that was going to leave a bruise. The vendor I'd stolen a loaf of bread from turned me around to face him.

"Damn gaki," he hissed, face purple with anger and exertion, "Don't you know what happens to filthy thieves like you? Why, I ought to slit your throat. Better whores like you end up dead than cluttering the streets like you do." That was as far as he got before I spit in his eye. His grip loosened as he broke off cursing and seizing the opportunity, I kneed him in the gut as hard as I could. Not waiting for him to recover, I broke free and ran off in the opposite direction.

Second Rule of Rukongai: If you wanted to survive, you had to learn how to defend yourself damn quick.

I wandered around in circles for a good ten minutes to make sure he hadn't managed to follow me, before heading back home. 'Home' was a small, rundown hut located close to the outskirts of town. It was little more than a shack, really, barely inhabitable, but it kept most of the rain out and was relatively isolated. All I could ask for, really, given the situation we were in.

Rukia and I had been dead for two weeks now (and wasn't that a strange thought?). After the tsunami, I'd only had time wake up and register that Rukia and I were dead before a Shinigami performed konso on us. I'd faded away and had ended up on the outskirts of Inuzuri, the 78th district of South Rukongai, with Rukia a couple of feet away. It hadn't taken me long to figure out that we'd ended up with the short end of the stick when it came to new living arrangements. Inuzuri consisted of seventy percent slums, ten percent semi-well-off merchants and shopkeepers, and twenty percent yakuza and gangs. And for all that the dirt poor people outnumbered them, the yakuza and merchants held one hundred percent of the power.

Third Rule of Rukongai: Don't get on the bad side of anyone with a number of hired thugs under their control, unless you want to wake up one night with your throat cut open. Keep your head down, don't make waves and you might just survive.

Rukia was awake when I got back. She whined plaintively when she caught sight of me and her face scrunched up. Uh oh; warning signs began going off like crazy inside my head. I counted myself lucky that Rukia wasn't one of those fussy babies who wailed nonstop, but she did cry her fair share. Thankfully, she usually calmed down relatively quickly. Making my way towards her, I picked her up and began hushing her. "Hey there, don't cry. Yeah, I'm sorry I had to leave again, but I can't exactly take you with me when I go out shopping, can I?" Carefully, I took out the wild carrots I'd managed to find yesterday. Picking up one I took a giant bite out of it, chewed thoroughly and spat it back out with a grimace. One thing I'd noticed was that most people didn't seem to get that hungry here. Oh sure, people still sold food and some people still ate, but they didn't really _need_ to. Something that confused the hell out of me, since I sure as fuck still got hungry. Not as much as I used to—I only needed to eat once every other day, Rukia every three to five days—but I still needed to _eat._

Taking the chewed-up carrot pulp, I put some on my finger and held it up. "Hey baby girl, lunch time. Yeah, I know it doesn't look appetizing but dead or not, you still need nutrients. And as long as I'm taking care of you, you're going to get them." It went against all my medical training to feed a baby using only my unwashed fingers (because _eww)_ but silverware and sanitation weren't luxuries I could afford. All I could do was hope that when bacteria died it went to a different afterlife or something.

I sighed, biting into the bread Doucheface-san had so kindly 'donated' and shivered as a slight breeze swept through the room. I could tell the days were getting shorter, and it had started getting a lot cooler at night. I focused on Rukia as she gurgled happily while sucking on my finger and tried not to think about how I'd make it through the winter.

* * *

"Look, I'm not asking for much. Just a meal and a place to stay for the night! I'm willing to do any work you give me, and I know how to cook and clean. Just please, let me and my sister in!" I pleaded. The woman at the door sneered. "And risk you making off with all the money? I know what your type is like. Trash, all of you. If you really want a place to stay, I'm sure you can find someone's bed to spend the night in." With that, she slammed the door in my face.

"Yeah? Well, screw you too!" I screamed at the closed door. Rukia shivered from where she was huddled against my chest and I smiled ruefully at her. "Looks like attempt twenty three is a bust too, huh?" I began walking down the street again. It was cold enough outside that most people were indoors and my hands had gone numb hours ago.

"At least it isn't as bad as the winters in Connecticut, though," I said to Rukia. "You've never seen one, but Japanese winters are _nothing_ compared to the winters in Northeastern America. At this time of year you'd practically be buried beneath four feet of snow. This? This is nothing." I stopped for a moment to catch my breath as my vision blurred out momentarily. Black spots danced in front of my eyes. "Of course, back then I had a house, heating, and a family to go back to."

"Let's take a break, and then I'll go back to house-hunting, okay?" I turned down an empty alleyway, hoping it would provide some shelter from the wind and slowly sat down against a wall.

Surviving through winter was going to be near impossible. I'd known this peripherally, had known in some back corner of my mind that my current house, with its missing door and thin walls, wasn't going to provide enough shelter during the cold. It wasn't until the days started getting shorter and the temperatures dropped to the point where I couldn't leave Rukia without worrying about her freezing to death that I started to understand how hard it was going to be. I only had a handful of ryo left; enough to last me maybe a week. Staring down at Rukia's peaceful face, I couldn't help but wonder if this was how the original Hisana felt. Had she felt the same hopelessness in the face of such overwhelming odds? The futility of trying to raise a child with no food, no money, no job and no decent shelter? I'd always felt that the original Hisana was weak; surely there had to be a better way than simply abandoning her sister and hoping for the best? I suddenly wasn't so sure anymore.

"Are you really better off with me though?" I murmured. Because what could I offer her, really? I had no real marketable skills (I could offer to treat injured people, but who would trust a ten year old peasant to heal anyone?), no allies, no home…she was doomed to a life of poverty and hardship should she stay with me. Would it really be so bad to leave her here? It would be cowardly, yes, but it would also be unbelievably selfish of me to keep her with me. The original Rukia had turned out fine. Someone had obviously found her and taken her in until she grew old enough to fend for herself. Even if Byakuya never took her in (because the chances of him meeting me in Rukongai and falling in love were laughably small), she'd find friends to stand at her back and would become a Shinigami either way. She might find herself in danger, if things went anything like the original timeline, but Kuchiki Rukia had always been one of those people who turned out fine in the end. How could I deny her that future?

Yet at that moment, when I turned to go, all I could think about was a memory from another lifetime, when I was eight and Dave was ten. I'd wanted to play basketball with him and his friends. Dave's friends, understandably, didn't want to play ball with a little girl two years younger than them. When I wouldn't go away, they'd let me play reluctantly. The game was brutal—they'd take turns shoving and tripping me; when I fell down they made fun of my clumsiness. I'd finally left when a basketball was thrown at my face hard enough to almost break my nose. What I remember most however, was when I turned teary, accusing eyes on my brother. He shifted uncomfortably, guiltily, and for a second I was sure he'd say something. Then he turned away, told me to scram and that no one wanted me there.

When my father found out, he was furious. I'd never seen him so angry at Dave. He was grounded for two months, was made to do all the chores, and banned from the T.V. and the computer. Two days after the incident, Dad called me and Dave into his office. With a face like stone, he'd told us, "I don't care if you two get into arguments and fight. I don't care if you get along or if you damn well hate each other. But when it comes down to it, you had better stick by each other, you hear? You're brother and sister; you stand up for each other. Understood?"

A week after his punishment ended, one of Dave's friends called me an "annoying little brat" and told me "not to show my ugly face around anymore." Dave stood up and punched him in the face.

I blinked and the memory faded. When had I stopped walking? At that moment Rukia woke up and upon finding me standing halfway down the alley, she reached up and whined. When I still didn't move, her face scrunched up and she started to cry. With a sigh, I walked back and picked her up. Swallowing hard, I looked down. I'd already broken my promise to my mom once; could I really do so again? Rukia yawned, and then looked at me knowingly, as if to say, _It's not that hard, idiot. You've already made your choice._

I smiled ruefully back at her. "You're right," I said quietly. In the end, it was no choice at all. I shook my head and walked out of the alleyway with Rukia on my back. "Fuck canon." Abandon family? Leave my sister's life in the hands of fate? Not a chance.

* * *

"Hey, you there," a voice came from behind me, "Girl with the short black hair. Yeah, I'm talking to you." I stiffened before turning around.

"Yes?" I asked cautiously. "May I help you with something?" The speaker turned out to be a tall brown-eyed guy with gray hair that fell over his eyes who looked about eighteen, not that physical appearances mattered much in this world. He didn't look angry but something about the easy, confident way he walked put me on guard.

"You've only been here a few months, right?" He asked instead. I nodded in confirmation; it was difficult to keep track of time sometimes but I guessed that I'd died about half a year ago, give or take a few weeks.

"My name's Yamato Tatsuya," he introduced himself. "I've noticed you're pretty good at pick-pocketing. You're smart. Quick. And you've got good instincts, with the way you pick out your targets." I shrugged. If anything, his praise made me more cautious.

"Yukimura Hisana—and I do what I have to. Did you go to the trouble of meeting me just to compliment my talent for thievery?" I asked sarcastically. He grinned at me, lips quirking up in a quick, easygoing smile. I didn't trust it one bit.

"You're a spirited one, huh? You can stop glancing towards the door, you know. I'm not here to hurt you. All I want to do is offer you a job, Hisana-chan."

"A job?" I asked wryly, twitching slightly at the familiar honorific. "One that will utilize my considerable pick-pocketing skills, I assume?"

"Got it in one," he said cheerfully.

"And tell me why exactly I should join? I don't know anything about you aside from your name, and even that's a toss-up."

"I've been in this shit-hole for longer than I remember, I like onigiri, and I lead a gang of four other kids. If you join, it'll make an even ten." His smile dropped and his face became serious. "I'll be honest with you, Hisana-chan, since I despise liars. You may have been doing alright on your own now, but it won't last for long. It's true that you can't expect anyone to go out of their way to help you and that most people will stab you in the back at the first chance, but you also can't survive without allies. You stick with me, you do what I tell you to say, and I'll look after you. If nothing else, so long as you don't go against me, you can trust me not to hurt you. After all, I protect what's mine. Also," he shrugged, "it's not like you can afford to refuse my offer. I've heard that you've got a kid to look after, isn't that right, Hisana-chan?" His tone turned mocking as he said my name.

My heart seemed to freeze in my chest as he mentioned Rukia and it suddenly hurt to breathe. His eyes possessed no trace of uncertainty or doubt; he knew that I was going to accept. The offer was just a formality—there had never really been any choice. The worst part was, he was right. I did need his help. I'd barely survived the last winter, and that was only because on attempt forty two, I'd finally found someone who was willing to take us in for a few months.

"Looks like you've done your research, Yamato-san," I said hoarsely. He shrugged, that playful, carefree grin slipping back on his face. "What can I say? When I see something I want, I work to get it." As if I was just some interesting curiosity that caught his eye. Nothing more than an object to be acquired.

"Why me?" I wanted to know. "There isn't exactly a shortage of pickpockets in Rukongai, and most of them are more experienced than me."

"I want you because you're strong, Hisana. You're right. There's no lack of thieves in Inuzuri, but not everyone has the drive I'm looking for. Most of them? They're little more than animals, only caring about themselves and how to survive to the next day. You've seen them, begging and whoring themselves out to anyone willing to throw them a handful of ryo," he spat. "And when it gets too much? They break. But you?" His gaze turned considering. "You've managed to retain your dignity. You've still got an honor code. I don't pick people only for their skills; I also want people who won't betray me."

"Save me the flattery," I said flatly. "It's creepy how much you've obviously stalked me. All I want is your word that you'll do your absolute best to protect my sister from harm. If you harm a hair on her head, the deal's over."

"I don't hurt babies," he said lightly, "But you do have my word that I'll do my best to keep her safe. You should lighten up on the paranoia, you know. It can't be good for your health. Don't want any gray hairs now, do we?" I scowled at him, and he laughed, punching me in the arm. "Lighten up! I was just kidding; a healthy dose of paranoia is good in these parts. Keeps you alive and from being fed to the fishes." With another cheerful grin (not even a day into our acquaintance and I was already hating that ever-present smile of his), Tatsuya waved and turned to go.

"Just one more thing!" He called out over his shoulder. "If we're going to be working together from now on, call me Tatsuya!"

Against my will, my lips twitched up and I ducked my head to hide my expression. I still didn't trust Tatsuya as far as I could throw him, and he was an overly-confident, overly-cheerful, manipulative psychopath (or as Takami would say, a yandere), but maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

"Whoa, what's with the baby? Aren't you a bit young to have kids? You're like, seven right? Didn't even know that girls could get pregnant that young." I glared at the annoying idiot in front of me. I'd been right. This wasn't bad. This was awful, horrible, terrible, and I was already regretting agreeing to Tatsuya's demands. Next to me, Tatsuya wasn't even attempting to hide his snickers.

"Rukia is my _sister,_ you brain-dead, retarded waste of space! And I'm ten!" I hissed at the moron in front of me. So much for Tatsuya having high standards. I didn't know people came that stupid.

"Now, now Hisana-chan," Tatsuya chuckled. "Horio may not be the…brightest person in the world but he does have his merits." I stared doubtfully at him. Horio was a short, skinny brat with hair that resembled a rat's nest. "He is exceptionally good at creating distractions."

Let's backtrack a bit. Two days after our meeting, Tatsuya tracked me down again, this time at home (I was right, he _was_ a stalker). Rukia had taken one look at him and had burst into tears. I had to give it to her; the girl had good instincts. After managing to calm her down, Tatsuya had dragged me off, Rukia in hand, to "meet up with the others" at what he deemed "the hangout"—an abandoned building not far from where I lived. Which led me to my current predicament.

"Anyway, time for introductions!" Tatsuya announced cheerfully. "Everyone, this is Hisana-chan and her sister Rukia-chan."

"Oh, is this the girl who you've been stalking for the past couple of weeks?" A boy with spiky black hair and blue eyes asked, grinning. Tatsuya pouted. "I'm Kazuki. Nice to meet you."

"Kaori." A girl who looked about thirteen with black hair tied up in a ponytail and bored gray eyes said disinterestedly. The last guy, a tall serious looking teenager with short black hair, nodded in my direction.

"That's Mitsuo. Don't mind him, he doesn't really talk much," Tatsuya explained. "And you might have noticed, but we all call each other by our first names. No need for formality when we're going to be watching each other's backs, right? You and Rukia can stay here, if you want. It's not much better, but at least you don't have to worry about the roof collapsing in, and there'll always be someone at base to look after her. You'll get an equal share of all the profits we bring in, and help yourself to whatever food you want in the kitchen. If you have any other questions, you can direct them to Kaori. She'll be showing you the ropes for the next few months." I glanced at the blank-faced girl. She didn't exactly look happy, but she didn't look upset either. "Got all that?" I nodded.

"Great!" He clasped me on the shoulder. "Welcome to the family."

* * *

Until now, I'd thought that while I wasn't the most talented thief around, I was good enough at it to be decent. Passable. Seeing Kaori pickpocket, however, made me realize how woefully inadequate my skills really were. She had it down to an art form, from being able to tell from a glance who had the most money, to being able to stroll down the street, casually bumping into people and lifting wallets, all without their owners noticing. She walked back to where I was hiding, smirking at my expression.

"How did you do that?" I demanded. "No one even looked up!"

"Easy," she said, "In order to be a successful thief, you have to be invisible. We have an advantage there, since no one pays attention to street urchins, but it's more than that. You have to be perfectly confident in what you're doing. Nothing gives away guilt more than doubt does, and nothing is more noticeable than someone with an obviously guilty countenance. Learning how to blend into the background is hard and it took me years to do it properly. Human beings have an innate desire to be noticed, to be important. That's why it's so difficult to learn how to be _under_ someone's notice."

"And how do you know who to target? That last guy was dressed in rags!" I asked. She shrugged. "Everyone gives off signs. They're pretty obvious, if you know what to look for—a shift of the eyes, the way they bargain, how they walk. That last guy may have been dressed like a beggar, but when he passed by that stall selling sake, he paused for a moment and his fingers twitched towards his pocket. I can't really explain it. You'll learn with time."

* * *

"You should be careful around Tatsuya, you know." I glanced at the girl next to me. I'd known Kaori for a week now and this was the first time she'd initiated a conversation beyond simple orders and explanations. I still wasn't sure what to think of my…mentor of sorts. She didn't seem like the type to stab me in the back, but she didn't seem like she'd go out of her way to help me either.

"What do you mean?" I asked. If there's one thing I learned over the past couple of days, it was that every member of Tatsuya's group followed him with unshakeable loyalty. Though Kazuki teased and joked with him, not once had I seen any of them go against his orders. In our little 'family?' Tatsuya's word was law, which is why it was so uncharacteristic of Kaori to warn me against him. She sighed.

"I normally wouldn't bother telling you this, but you're my responsibility and so I guess I should warn you. Tatsuya…as happy-go-lucky as he seems, you don't ever, ever want to cross him. Even Horio, idiot though he is, knows better than to anger him, though whether that's because he's so stupid the idea hasn't even occurred to him, I don't know. Tatsuya is very used to getting his way, and he won't stand for anyone who he sees as under his authority challenge him." I fell silent.

"Don't get me wrong. Tatsuya isn't a bad guy, and I owe a great deal to him. Just…just do what he says and you'll be fine." Kaori shook her head and then grabbed my arm. "Come on. See that woman haggling with the vendor over there? She's your next target. Do what I showed you yesterday and she won't even notice she's been robbed until it's time for her to pay."

(It wasn't until months later when I witnessed him stabbing a man in the gut and leaving him to die before turning to me with a bright smile to ask what was for dinner that I started to understand what Kaori was saying.)

* * *

It was a month after joining Tatsuya's group that I finally found my niche. I wasn't stupid. Though Kaori was forever polite, Horio talked to me incessantly, Mitsuo always greeted me with a nod and Kazuki never failed to give me a grin, it was clear that in their eyes, until I proved my worth to them, I was nothing more than a burden. I didn't have Tatsuya's charisma or people skills, or Horio's knack for distraction. I wasn't physically strong or good at fighting like Mitsuo, or a conman like Kazuki, and I was a complete amateur at thieving compared to Kaori.

I was, however, good at cooking.

I didn't know if the others needed to eat. All I cared about was that they _did _eat (and in the case of Kazuki, quite a bit) and thus there was usually something lying around. For the first time since arriving in Rukongai, I had the luxury of being well enough off to experiment a little. And so, early one Saturday morning, I went into the kitchen with the bright idea of introducing French Fries to Edo era Japan.

Humming to myself, I stoked a fire underneath the stove and began cutting some potatoes into strips (even in the afterlife, potatoes were cheap). I poured some oil into the pot hanging over the stove and waited impatiently for it to heat up. I really hoped this would work—there wasn't exactly a McDonalds I could go to.

I'd thought about trying to recreate some of my favorite foods from my previous life for a while now. Unfortunately, my parents didn't let me anywhere near the stove. Once I died, I was too busy trying to find _anything_ to eat to think about _what_ to eat. Here, I noticed that Mitsuo seemed to be assigned the duty of cooking, even though his repertoire appeared to be limited to rice and fish. It would be my first time attempting to cook in this world.

After I deemed the oil hot enough, I threw in the potato strips. I had to refry them about three times before I managed to get their texture to at least slightly resemble the fries I remembered. I was just about to sprinkle them with salt and some seasonings (since I sorely doubted I was going to find any ketchup) when,

"Whatcha doing?" Tatsuya's voice came from right behind me and I jumped.

"Geez, don't scare me like that! You're going to give me a heart attack someday," I grumbled. He grinned. "Looks like you've got to work on your situational awareness then. I wasn't even trying to be quiet," he teased, poking me in the shoulder.

"It's not my situational awareness that has a problem; it's you walking like a damn cat. And this is just an idea I got. Fried things taste good and potatoes are the best food ever, so I thought I'd combine the two." I shrugged and began sprinkling on the salt and some red pepper flakes to add spiciness. Why no one in Asia had come up with the idea was beyond me. I bit into one and chewed it slowly. It didn't have quite the same flavor or texture as the ones in fast food restaurants, but all in all it was pretty good. I'd try soaking them in water next time to remove the excess starch and maybe heat the oil up some more. I started sprinkling on more salt.

"Would you like one?" I offered, handing one over to Tatsuya. He took it and stared at it dubiously. "It's not poisoned, you know," I said dryly. He shrugged and popped it into his mouth. I watched smugly as his eyes widened and a look of bliss crossed over his face. He immediately grabbed another three and shoved them into his mouth.

"These are delicious! Hisana! You didn't tell me you could cook! You're a culinary genius! Oi, Kazuki! Horio! Come over here! Try this!" I watched as they experienced their first French fry with much the same reaction as Tatsuya. Mitsuo even graced me with a quiet, "These are good," when he came over. Kaori didn't outwardly react, but I caught her sneaking a plate to her room. By the end of the morning, Tatsuya and dubbed me the gang's official chef and I caught a glimpse of respect in Kaori's eyes for the first time. I beamed. Even in the afterlife, the power of a French fry was undeniable.

* * *

I'd been with Tatsuya's group for four months that I finally found the answer to why most people didn't seem to get hungry. I'd quickly found out that the group didn't only specialize in thievery and scams. Tatsuya also ran a delivery service of sorts. We'd deliver boxes to all kinds of people and would be rewarded with a few ryo each time. I never asked what it was that I was delivering. I didn't want to know.

I'd just delivered a shipment to one of the seedier bars in the area and was waiting for the bartender to pass me the payment when I overheard a couple men at the table across from me talking.

"Heard lil' Daichi's gone and become a Shinigami," one of them slurred to the other, "He's livin' in the Seireitei now."

"Lucky bastard," the other grunted. "He was always a weird one, always whining about how hungry he was. Man, wish I were him. Those damn Shinigami are rich as fuck. Some people got all the luck."

"I don' know," the first speaker said slowly, "I don't trust those guys. You hear some of the stories? They say a Shinigami can take out fifty men with his bare hands."

"That ain't nothin'. I know a guy who said he saw a Shinigami take out a whole pack of hollows with just one swing of his sword. Said he saw one of them get injured—by all rights he should have bled to death. Instead, one of his buddies came over and his hands started glowing green, no joke. Cut was gone in minutes."

At that moment the bartender came over with a wad of ryo. I carefully placed it inside my robe and thanked him before quietly making my way back where I found Kazuki playing with Rukia in the main room.

"Hey, welcome home!" He grinned upon seeing me. I waved back, before heading over to join them. Rukia squealed happily upon seeing me and I set her in my lap. She started rambling in that language only babies understand and I smiled fondly at her. She would start talking soon.

"Kazuki?" I said after a few minutes. Rukia had crawled back to him and had started reaching up in an attempt to tug his hair. "Yeah?" He answered, grimacing as she managed to grab onto a handful and pulled it in a way that looked painful.

"What can you tell me about Shinigami?" He looked towards me and was quiet for a few moments. "I keep forgetting, you've only been here for about a year." He sighed and tilted his head backwards. Rukia pouted and let go of her new toy. "I honestly don't know much about them. All I know is that they're crazy powerful, fight hollows, and live in the Seireitei. You don't see them around here often, as far south as Inuzuri is. You're better off asking Tatsuya. He's in the next room right now, if you want to see him." With a quiet 'thanks,' I made my way over to where Tatsuya was lying face up on a tatami matt and repeated my question.

"Hmm? Shinigami? Why do you want to know about them?" He asked.

"I overheard a couple people in a bar mentioning them and I got curious. Plus, they said something about Shinigami getting hungry, and since I do too…" I trailed off. Tatsuya opened his eyes and gave me a curious look. "You get hungry? Well, can't say that I'm too surprised. It's uncommon around here, but not unheard of." Tatsuya motioned for me to sit down. "I don't know too much about them, to be honest. They're a pretty mysterious bunch. See, you can only become a Shinigami if you have high spiritual power, which is just as well since otherwise everyone would become one. It's having that higher level of spiritual power that makes you hungry, from what I understand. Their spirit energy, or reiatsu, allows them to do all kinds of seemingly impossible things, from healing fatal wounds to being able to form spells. They also have what they call a zanpakuto, which is basically just a really powerful sword. Their purpose is to keep the balance between worlds, or something. That's pretty much all that I've learned about them." He tilted his head up to look at me, one side of his mouth quirking up. "Well, that and to never, ever get in a fight with one. They're called 'death gods' for a reason, you know."

That night, I waited until everyone had fallen asleep before attempting to access my reiatsu, as Tatsuya called it. So far, all my spirit energy had done for me was attract hollows and make me susceptible to starvation; it was about time it did something useful. I thought over what I'd learned, and what I knew previously about the Bleach world. It wasn't fighting with reiatsu that interested me. I had no idea how I'd even begin getting a zanpakuto and I didn't know any incantations, so the spells Tatsuya described were completely out of my reach. What did interest me was what I'd heard about healing kido. It didn't sound like it required any incantations and should I learn how to use it, the benefits would be indescribable.

I sat up in a Burmese position (because hey, meditation seemed as good a place to start as any) and focused on calming my breathing. _Deep breath in, deep breath out,_ I thought. _Slow and steady, in and out…_ Ten minutes later, I fell asleep.

On day three of doing the exercise, I finally made some progress. _Okay, Hisana,_ I started giving myself a pep talk. _You can do this. You even got a good night's sleep yesterday so you probably won't fall asleep. Again. _Yeah, I wasn't that good at giving pep talks.

I was trying a different approach today. Previously, I'd looked through my mind and tried to sense something, anything, out of the ordinary. Tried to find anything that felt like energy of any sort. It's harder than it sounds when you have no idea what you're trying to find, or how to find it. Today, I was going to try a more visual method.

Closing my eyes, I first focused on clearing my mind, entering the first stage of meditation. The only thing that matters, I thought, is the feel of your chest rising, the wind entering your chest, your lungs expanding and contracting, the warm air you breathe out. I don't know how long I sat like that, feeling all my worries and thoughts drift away. Then, I began to _paint._

I imagined a ball of light in the center of my mind, lighting up the darkness around it. It was warm, comforting, orange like the sun just before it sets. I imagined streams of bright fire coming from it, blindingly beautiful streams of plasma, arches of liquid brilliance. They danced around, warming my body like the first sip of a perfect cup of hot cocoa, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. I directed the streams towards my arms, where they flowed down like rivers of light. I imagined the energy flowing from my palms, heating the air, reforming into a tiny sun. And when I opened my eyes there was a ball of light, barely larger than an apple, floating before my eyes gently illuminating the room. I slumped back onto my futon, suddenly exhausted but couldn't help but smile. The ball of energy danced before me and I willed it to fade away. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

It took three more weeks before I could sense and direct my spirit energy with ease. It took two months before I managed to get my hands to emit a soft green light. It took every ounce of focus I had, and I had to be completely, utterly concentrated on the idea of _healing_, of fixing things broken and helping things regrow for it to work. Focusing it, commanding it, purifying it; none of it was easy. Another two weeks after that, I took a knife and made a small cut across my palm, then called to mind every scrap of knowledge I possessed on wound healing. Directing my reiatsu to the wound, I instructed it to reattach broken capillaries, speed up the rate at which fibroblasts were secreting collagen, and force epithelial cells to multiply at an unbelievable pace. Five minutes later, I stared at the thin scar on my left hand. I laughed, feeling elation rise up uncontrollably in me. The injury was barely more than a paper-cut and had used up more energy than I'd expected but this...this I could work with.

* * *

Omake

"Hi-sa-na," I enunciated slowly and clearly. "Can you say that for me? Heee. Saaa. Naaa." Rukia blew a spit bubble at me.

"Give it up, Hisana," Tatsuya laughed from across the room. "She'll start talking when she's ready. You know people age differently in the spirit world. Don't worry."

"I know," I huffed, "It's silly, but I want her first word to be my name. Well, either that or 'nee –chan'."

"You might have better luck with 'nee-chan'," Tatsuya pointed out. "'Hisana' isn't exactly easy for a baby to say." At that moment, Kazuki entered the room. "Hey guys, what's up—fuck!" He swore as he stubbed his toe on edge of the table. "That damn thing, always getting in my way. Fuck, this hurts!"

Rukia giggled, upon seeing her favorite plaything in pain. Then, to my horror, she opened her mouth and cried out, "Fu—!" Her voice broke off as I hastily slapped a hand over her mouth. Tatsuya choked out something that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Upon hearing the word that Rukia had—almost—shouted out, Kazuki's eyes widened and he hurriedly started to apologize.

"Fu—I mean, shit—uh, what I mean to say is, Hisana, I swear Kami that I didn't mean for that to happen! It just slipped out! Please don't be mad!" He turned to me with giant puppy-dog eyes. Tatsuya had started howling with laughter. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a brief second before opening them again calmly.

"Kazuki-kun," I stated pleasantly. His face paled abruptly. Behind him, Tatsuya suddenly stopped laughing. "Kazuki-kun," I repeated. "You know, I really like you. I admire your skills and respect your contribution to this group. You're a great friend, you've taught me a lot, and I think you could be a wonderful big brother figure to Rukia when she grows up. But," a gentle, understanding, _kind_ smile formed on my lips, "If Rukia's first word is an expletive because you couldn't control your language…" I paused, staring him straight in the eye, "…I will _castrate_ you."

My smile wasn't quite on Unohana's level, I thought. I doubted it would ever be, even if I practiced for a thousand years. However, looking at Kazuki's terrified face and Tatsuya's ash-gray one, something like pride spread through me. _But it's a good start._

_Author's Note: I tried not to make her too strong or too smart…you tell me if I succeeded or not. I know a lot of it is filler, but I wanted to show her struggles in the Rukongai; after all, original Hisana did live in Inuzuri for 100 years before Byakuya found her. Also, what do you think of the OCs? Like them, hate them, I'd love to hear your opinion. Please review—nothing motivates me more than your support!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed/favorited/followed this story! I'd love to hear what you guys think, and any suggestions for how to improve my writing are welcome!_

15 Years Later

I blocked a punch aimed towards my face and jumped to avoid my opponent's follow up kick. Seizing an opening, I coated my hand with a thin layer of reiatsu and managed to deal a blow to his abdomen hard enough to cause him to stumble back a few steps. Before he could recover, I darted back in with a flurry of punches and kicks. He recovered quickly and a jab to my throat caught me off guard. For a moment, I couldn't breathe and staggered. A hook to my kidney made me double over. The next thing I knew, my arms were pulled roughly behind my back and a knife was at my throat.

"Yield," I croaked out. Immediately, the knife was removed and my hands were released. I grumbled, rubbing at my sore throat. "Annnd…that brings our record to…"

"I believe it's ninety three to zero, in Mitsuo's favor," Tatsuya piped in, grinning, before handing me a cup of water. I gulped it down gratefully.

"Don't feel bad, Hisana," Kazuki added. "You've only started learning, what, a decade ago? And not full time either. Mitsuo's got at least half a century of experience on you."

"You've come a long way, Hisana." Horio said seriously. Then he smirked. "You've gone from being a shrimp who couldn't last two seconds in a fight to a shrimp who can't last two minutes in a fight."

"Hey!" I protested, scowling darkly. "I lasted almost five minutes that time. And don't call me a shrimp! It's not like you can talk. You're barely two inches taller than me!"

"Two inches taller is still taller, though," he taunted. "Midget! If I didn't know better, I'd say you shrunk during the last decade and a half!"

"DON'T CALL ME SHORT!" Having been five foot eight in a past life and not even topping five feet in this one had made height a rather sensitive issue for me.

"Any smaller and we won't be able to see you above the grass!"

"Why…you…" I growled and lunged at him. He blew a raspberry at me and danced away.

"Now, now you two," Tatsuya clucked his tongue admonishingly at us. It did nothing to hide the amused glint in his eyes. "Horio, try not to incense Hisana. Hisana, I'd prefer it if you didn't try to strangle Horio."

"Don't bother, Tatsuya," Kaori drawled. "Something about the other just makes them act like bigger morons than usual." I huffed, trying to ignore the way I suddenly felt like a little kid again. Sometimes, I wondered just how much being in a younger body had affected me mentally. At that moment, the door opened and Rukia peeked outside.

"Nee-chan!" She squealed, running over to me. "Are ya done? Didja kick Horio-baka's butt?"

"Oi!" Horio whined. "I can't believe you taught her to call me that."

"I didn't teach her nothing," I stuck my tongue out at him. "She came up with that all on her own. And no," I turned to face Rukia, "I sparred with your Mitsuo-nii today."

"Oh," she nodded knowingly, "So you got your butt kicked, then?"

"Why, you brat!" I ruffled her hair and she giggled. It was strange how people grew in the Spirit World. Hardly anyone died of old age, and it seemed to older you were, the slower you aged. At the moment, I was physically around thirteen or fourteen (meaning I still had hope that I would reach a decent height by the time puberty ended) and Rukia was around three or four. Mentally, she was closer to five or six.

"Is it almost time for dinner? Can we have pizza?" Rukia asked, turning to me with giant puppy dog eyes. In addition to French fries, I'd also managed to reinvent pizza, fried chicken, and funnel cake (a doctor introducing junk food to the world; there had to be some sort of irony in there).

"Nah, think we'll be sticking to rice and fish. Maybe we can have pizza tomorrow, huh?" I set her down and walked over to where Mitsuo was standing. "Okay, you know the drill now. Strip. Shirt off." I ordered sternly. Kazuki snorted from behind me. "Hisana, you're the only kid I know that can say that with a straight face."

"Comes with the job. When you're a doctor, modesty is the first thing to go," I retorted, staring straight at Mitsuo. He reluctantly pulled off his shirt and revealed a sizable purpling bruise, causing me to wince.

"Sorry," I whispered, hands already emitting a faint green glow. Brushing my fingers over it, I concentrated on repairing broken capillaries and numbing the pain receptors.

"You're getting better at doing that," he observed.

"Yeah, well, I get a lot of practice," I smiled wryly. He looked at me for a while.

"You are getting better at channeling energy when you attack, as well." I shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise. "Soon you will be at an acceptable level."

"And then I can start teaching her how to use weapons!" Tatsuya grinned, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

"I think I'll stick to patching you guys up for now. I get that I need to be able to defend myself, but sticking sharp objects into people isn't really my thing," I deferred. The thing was, though I was fine with dealing out a few punches and kicks, I still was a bit uneasy with attacking with a knife. Bruises and even broken bones could be recovered from relatively easily; a cut artery was something entirely different.

"Nonsense," Tatsuya waved my protests aside. "Your body type is much more suited for wielding knives. Besides, daggers are awesome! Mitsuo and Horio mostly stick to hand-to-hand, and Kazuki and Kaori both prefer swords. I need someone on my side too!"

I shook my head, walking inside to get started on dinner. "Don't bet on it."

* * *

"Nee-chan?" I felt a small hand tug at mine.

"Hmm?" I mumbled, from where I was preparing a salve that would help with healing bruises. "What is it, imouto?"

"Can you tell me about Kaa-san and Tou-san?" Rukia asked shyly. I went still, finally looking down. Rukia was avoiding my eyes while biting her lip nervously.

"Why do you want to know?" I asked carefully. To be honest, I should have expected this. It wasn't surprising that Rukia would want to know about her parents and it wasn't like I had any aversion to talking about them. It's just…sometimes it was easier not to bring things up from before the tsunami. The others had never asked, and in turn I'd never asked about their pasts; for most people, life before Rukongai was something of a forbidden topic.

"I was shopping with Kaori-nee-san, an' I saw a pretty lady carryin' a baby while holding hands with a guy. Kaori-nee-san said that the lady and the man were the baby's parents, and I was just wonderin' why we don't have them." I sighed, motioning for Rukia to sit down. Family was different in Rukongai. I'd never even heard of someone giving birth; if a couple wanted a kid, they'd usually just adopt. I assumed it had something to do with spirit energy, though I'd never been able to confirm it. People made their own families; it was rare to find family members who were actually blood related.

"You know that Kaori and your nii-sans aren't actually related to us right? Of course, they're our family in all the ways that matter, but they were all born to different parents," I started out. Rukia nodded.

"Yup! That's why me an' you look alike, but we don't look anything like Horio." She replied promptly.

"Thank Kami," I muttered, causing her to giggle.

"Kaori-nee-san tol' me Tatsu-nii found us a long time ago an' in-inmited us to join his family. But she doesn't know what happen' to us before that."

"_Invited_ us," I corrected. "And that's right—we weren't always a part of this group. But back to your original question." I paused, hesitating. How do you tell your sister about the parents she had never known? Kaa-san's smile and gentle hands, Tou-san's enthusiasm and passion for his job…how do you put those things into words?

"We were born…in a village close to the sea," I began haltingly. "Kaa-san's name was Yukimura Asuka. She—she looked a lot like us. She had the same eyes as us, and long black hair that was always tied into a bun. Kaa-san was a wonderful cook; she could make a delicious meal out of the simplest things." I could almost see her then, welcoming me with a warm smile while chopping carrots and potatoes for dinner.

"Just like you!" Rukia exclaimed excitedly. I smiled sardonically.

"Something like that, though her meals tended to be a lot healthier. She was a doctor too, like me. Both our parents were, and she was brilliant at it. Always calm, soothing; she could make someone feel better just by being there. Tou-san's name was Yukimura Seichi. He taught me all I know about plants, and he was always so devoted to his job. He loved Kaa-san more than anything and was the best father ever; he'd tell me a story every night. He could always make me laugh," I trailed off, remembering evenings by the stove and his low, rumbling voice in my ear while Kaa-san laughed and sewed next to him. Something wet landed on my hand and I hurriedly wiped it off.

"What happened to them?" Rukia asked, eyes wide. I swallowed heavily before continuing.

"There was a tsunami—a giant wave. One day I woke up to an earthquake; nothing serious. But a few hours later, the sea was receding." Thinking back to that day was painful; I could remember the dawning horror and realization as if it was yesterday, the way I'd seen my death in that monstrously huge wave.

"It came back with a vengeance—a wave as big as twenty buildings stacked on top of one another. Kaa-san ran off to warn Tou-san; I don't know what happened to them. I took you and ran as far as I could, but it wasn't enough." Too late, I realized that it probably wasn't the best idea to tell a child how she died and lost her parents, and grimaced. Well, nothing to do about it now. I looked at a suddenly very quiet Rukia.

"They loved you, you know," I added. She looked up. "Even if you never knew them, they loved you. Kaa-san's last wish was for us to be safe. No matter what happened to them, just know that your Kaa-san and Tou-san love you very much. As do I." Rukia was silent for a moment.

"I wish I coulda known them," Rukia mumbled, fidgeting. I didn't say anything, just pulled her into a hug and gently started stroking her hair. In minutes, she was asleep.

The door creaked open, and Tatsuya peeked in, an uncharacteristically somber expression on his face.

"Listening in?" I asked, without looking up. "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's not polite to eavesdrop?" He shrugged, not bothering to excuse himself.

"I hadn't realized that you remembered your past. Most people don't," Tatsuya said instead.

"Most people don't want to," I replied. "It's hard, leaving everything behind. The living aren't the only ones who mourn."

"It's easier to forget," Tatsuya agreed, "And Rukongai is, before anything else, a chance for a new life. I'm surprised that you chose to remember—but then again, considering your situation, perhaps it's not such a surprise after all."

"Memories make up who you are," I shrugged, "And how can I hope to raise Rukia if I don't even know myself? I can't afford to forget." Tatsuya stared at me with an unreadable expression on his face.

"I don't remember much of my past life," he said suddenly. "And I never knew my parents. My uncle took me in for a few years before kicking me out, and I grew up in the streets. Funny, isn't it, how little things have changed for me? Street rat, vermin, trash; in life and in death." His voice was unbearably bitter and I swallowed, because Tatsuya was a lot of things, but uncertain wasn't one of them.

"You're more than trash," I said softly. "You told me, when you first met me, that I needed your help to survive. And that was true – I joined you because I needed to. But _I stayed_ because I wanted to. I'm not speaking just for myself here; Horio, Mitsuo, Kazuki and Kaori, we all made the decision to follow you. None of us would choose to follow trash, and you've got a lot of audacity for thinking so." I glared at him. "Wallowing in pity doesn't suit you, Tatsuya. You're better than that." He rubbed at the back of his head, slightly embarrassed.

"Ah, you're right as always, Hisana." His face lightened, regaining its normal cheer. "Besides, with all the good karma I've been gathering over the past few decades, taking in little kids and cute little babies under my wing, I'm bound to be reborn as a king in my next life." I snorted.

"I wouldn't count on it, idiot. If you want to be reborn as a king, you'd better start praying to Kami now. And shoo—you'll wake Rukia." He smiled, dancing away. "Sweet dreams; you'll need your rest now. Because in a week, you'll be starting weapons training with me!" With that he walked away whistling, ignoring the way I rolled my eyes. _At least he's not moping anymore,_ I thought. As creepy as his smile was sometimes, he just didn't seem right without it.

* * *

"So, where're the boys?" I asked, glancing towards where Kaori was giving Rukia a stealth lesson via stealing French fries. I smothered a smile; no matter how much she tried to hide it behind stoic faces and stony expressions, when it came to Rukia she was a giant softy. We all were, really. "And put those back; don't think I didn't notice that. Eat too many and you'll turn into a little potato yourself." Rukia pouted, but brightened up once Kaori whispered something in her ear. I didn't want to know.

"They're out at Watanabe's." Kaori replied. "Kazuki was bored, so Tatsuya suggested getting some quick cash." I nodded in understanding. Watanabe Hiruzen owned a casino, one of the more successful ones, and gambling was, ironically, one of the group's steadiest sources of income. It was amazing how good Tatsuya and Kazuki were at getting away with peoples' money without said people noticing. They practically had cheating down to an art.

"It's simple, really," Kazuki had once explained to me, "The trick to not getting caught is not taking too much at one time. Keep your wins relatively small, lose once in a while, and never go to the same place too often. The rest is all sleight of hand."

In the decade and a half I'd known them, Kazuki had only been caught a handful of times, and even then nothing major had come out of it. Hell, most of the gamblers there cheated from time to time, and so long as you didn't try to palm a couple thousand ryo, things rarely got serious. If things did escalate, well, that's what Mitsuo was there for. Kazuki was so good at what he did and he so rarely got caught that the idea that things might go wrong never even crossed my mind- which was why it was such a surprise when Kazuki burst through the door.

"Kazuki?" Kaori asked sharply. Both of us took in his panicked expression, the way he was limping slowly, the cut still bleeding sluggishly over his eye. Her expression hardened. "What happened? Never mind that, where are they?"

"Right around the corner to Watanabe's," he panted, "Horio got careless." I swallowed heavily, hearing the unspoken words he was all but screaming with his body language. A twitch of his hand towards the hilt of his sword; _we have to hurry._ A glance towards the door;_ they need me there._ The fear on his face;_ things don't look good._

Kaori was moving before he even finished talking, grabbing her sword and dashing out the door. I was about to follow when a tug on my shirt stopped me.

"Nee-chan?" Rukia asked me with wide eyes. "What's goin' on?" I turned to where Kazuki was.

"I'll catch up. You go." He nodded before running out the door after Kaori.

"Your nii-sans just got in a bit of trouble," I said to Rukia seriously, "I have to go help them, okay? Listen to me. Until one of us gets back, you have to stay here. Please, Rukia, don't go after me."

"But I wanna help!" I nearly groaned at the stubborn set of her face.

"You can help by keeping yourself safe. If you follow me, then you'll distract all of us and we'll all be in danger. Just…just promise me you won't go anywhere." Rukia bowed her head for a moment before looking up again and grabbing my hand tightly.

"Then—then you haveta promise you'll come back!" She uttered fiercely. I paused stunned, for a moment hearing the echo of another child's voice, another lifetime. _You're gonna be okay, right, Aunt Christina?_ The moment passed and I found myself saying, "Yeah. I promise you I'll come back."

The sun was setting by the time I made it to the fight. Sticking to the shadows, I watched unnoticed as the fight progressed and winced internally. Horio just had to go and piss off the leader of a battle-hardened group of thugs who were all easily three times my size, didn't he? And if that weren't bad enough, we were outnumbered two to one. Two of them were out for the count; judging by their continued breathing they were unconscious but still alive. Even so, they wouldn't be reentering the fight any time soon. Unfortunately, our side wasn't doing so well either. Kazuki's head injury had only gotten worse and was clearly impairing his sight. Horio was also limping and had a broken nose. Both Mitsuo and Kaori were bleeding from various cuts. Even Tatsuya, who was dancing around his two opponents with enviable grace and agility, was beginning to wear down from exhaustion.

In the chaos, I quietly made my way over to where two of the men were ganging up on Horio. Channeling a bit of reiatsu to my fingertips, I snuck up behind one of the men and, jumping up, pressed my fingers to the base of his skull. Within seconds, he joined his two partners in unconsciousness. Using the distraction, Horio punched his other opponent in the jaw before drop-kicking him in the gut.

"Not too bad for a shrimp, huh?" I asked smirking. He gave me the middle finger and went to help Kazuki out with his fight.

In hindsight, I really should have expected it. I had the least bit of fighting experience amongst the group and had the most reluctance to kill. Add in my petite, fragile appearance and all in all, it shouldn't have been a surprise that I would be the most targeted. With all my focus intent on simply keeping up with the gargantuan brute in front of me, I didn't notice myself being slowly led away from the others. Tatsuya noticed first.

"Hisana! Watch out!" He shouted. I faltered, hesitating for a brief second. The next thing I knew, I was being grabbed forcefully from behind and shoved into a painful headlock, thick arms cutting off my air supply. My hands reached automatically for my throat, trying desperately to do something, anything, to free myself. A knife poised straight at my jugular stopped me.

"Stop, before I slit her throat!" My captor barked. _It's like a scene out of a bad Wild West movie,_ I thought hysterically. "Drop your weapons!" _And I'm the damsel in distress._

"Why should we? Like we care what you do to her!" Kazuki yelled back. Only the faint tremor of his hands gave away how terrified he was. The knife dug in deeper and a whimper escaped my lips before I could stop it. I hated myself in that moment.

"On second thought," he glanced at me, an odd glint in his eyes. "She's quite a catch, for a street rat." Bile rose up in my throat as revulsion swept through me, sickening and vile. "How about we propose a trade? I'll forget about the…insult you've dealt me tonight. You'll be free to go and you have my word my men won't seek retribution. In exchange…you give me this sweet little thing. You have such pretty eyes," he murmured, now addressing me directly, "I'd love to see what they look like when you're begging me for mercy."

"You sick pedophile!" Horio screamed, breaking away from his position behind Kazuki.

"Horio, no!" My eyes opened wide and for a moment, I saw the world through the eyes of a spectator witching a movie, utterly powerless to prevent the events happening on film. I saw Horio tearing himself away from the group, lunging towards where my captor watched with taunting eyes. I saw Mitsuo reach to stop him, only a second too late. One of the men (_monstersfiendsmurderers)_ intercepted him just before he reached me, grabbing him from behind, reaching up to his head and_ twisting_—

It was so quick. One second Horio—idiot, _idiot_, reckless Horio—was rushing towards me, fury and righteous hatred and fear in his eyes and the next he was on ground, eyes blank, neck tilted at a horrible, unnatural angle, lying like a child's broken marionette.

For a moment, everything was still, the climax of a movie when everything freezes. Then reality rushed back and this was no movie, because no movie could _ever, ever_ cause this kind of pain. I stared dumbly at the body, a part of me still disbelieving, because that couldn't be Horio, how could that be Horio? Horio was the loud, irritating brat who somewhere down the line became the little brother I'd never wanted but couldn't imagine living without anyway. The broken puppet on the ground wasn't Horio. It couldn't be.

But it was and the wall of denial began crumbling away, yielding to the tidal wave of grief and anguish behind it. Channeling my spirit energy had never come so easily to me before. Rage seemed to give me a focus and a determination that I'd previously lacked. Gripping the arm holding the knife to my throat, I sent a wave of energy down it, shutting down nerve receptors and muscles. His arm went limp and the knife he was holding dropped from suddenly numb fingers. I caught the knife before it hit the floor and, enhancing it with a layer of reiatsu, stabbed the man holding me straight in the chest. It slid through his ribs like a hot poker through butter. As he staggered back and collapsed, I stared at the blood covering my hands, stunned. Suddenly, I felt an urge to throw up and I bent over and heaved. It had been so easy, too easy, just a quick jab upwards to the heart.

A shove to my side caught me off hard and I tripped to the side. Looking up, I saw Tatsuya deflect a sword blow with his dagger. "The fight isn't over, Hisana. This is no place to be distracted." His voice was harsh, cold, with only the pain in his eyes giving away his grief. I nodded, pushing away my thoughts with the ease only years of meditation had given me. Everything from then on was a blur—stab, duck a punch aimed for my head, kick there, roll to avoid a sword. For a moment, it seemed like we would win. Mitsuo was taking on two of them at once, each move deliberate and utterly without mercy. Kazuki's face was absent of its ever-present grin, and from the corner of my eye I saw him slice his sword through his opponent's neck, nearly beheading him. Kaori's face was even more unreadable than usual and she calmly watched her enemy bleed out with cold eyes. I spun around, ducked in and tripped the guy sneaking up on me behind my back, sending him sprawling forward. And Tatsuya, Tatsuya was—

There was an odd buzzing in my ears. I stared in incomprehension at Tatsuya—Tatsuya who had a knife buried between his ribcage and continued to watch, unmoving, as the hand that knife was attached to ripped it back out, the silver now stained red. For an eternity, Tatsuya just stood there, a stunned expression on his face—and then he was falling, hand clutched to his chest, falling, falling, falling…

Vaguely, I heard a roar of rage coming from my left. _Kazuki_, I thought distantly, but I didn't glance back, couldn't remove my eyes from the impossible scene in front of me. Kept waiting for Tatsuya to get up again, to leap to his feet and continue fighting with that carefree, wild grin on his face. _Get up!_ I wanted to scream, because there was something wholly _wrong_ with Tatsuya, our protector, teacher and leader lying there helpless, _weak._

A fist came towards my face and I blinked, avoiding it more out of reflex than anything else. I looked up to find the guy I'd tripped standing before me, an ugly sneer twisting his face.

"Aw, is the little girl going to cry?" He taunted. "Well, fair's fair. You killed our leader, so we killed yours." When I didn't react, he grinned. "What's wrong? Did you _love_ him? You're a bit young to be spreading your legs, but—

Something inside me snapped and right then, I didn't care about morality, or self-defense, or the promise I'd made as a doctor (_do no harm_). I lunged forward, tackling him, managing to shove him down solely due to surprise on his part. Then my hands were at his chest, and I was channeling more and more reiatsu, shutting down arteries and veins until there was nothing but silence left. And then I was running to Tatsuya's side, kneeling down and checking frantically for a pulse. Tatsuya grabbed my wrist, smiling slightly.

"Hey Hisana," he said hoarsely as I hurriedly scanned him with my reiatsu. "Guess…I really messed up…this time, didn't I?"

"Don't talk, you idiot," I choked out. It felt like someone poured acid down my throat. I was beginning to panic; healing cuts and bruises were one thing. Broken ribs? Internal bleeding? A punctured lung quickly filling up with blood? I didn't even know where to start.

He coughed, and a trickle of red flowed down from the corner of his mouth. Dimly, I was aware of the sounds of battle slowing down. "Don't…cry," he said softly. I shook my head, wiping away my tears furiously and pressed my hands to his wound, trying desperately to stop the blood.

"You're going to be fine," I said instead. "You hear me? You're going to be alright." He smiled at me through bloody lips. "Lying…doesn't suit you." He choked slightly, his grip on my wrist loosening. "Pray…for me, will you Hisana?" Tatsuya closed his eyes, and went limp, the minute rise and fall of his chest finally stopping.

"No," I whispered, "NO!" Slamming my hands onto his chest, I sent burst after burst of reiatsu into his heart, trying to do something, anything, to restart it into beating again. When his heart remained stubbornly still, I began pounding my fists on his body. "You idiot!" I shrieked. "You…how dare you give up like that? You promised me that you'd take care of Rukia! You said that we'd be a family! Wake up! You…you can't die." I began pouring spirit energy into Tatsuya's body, hoping, praying that a miracle would occur, that my reiatsu would respond to my wishes and erase his injuries, that Tatsuya would sit up and grin and berate me for ever doubting him. A pair of arms slipped around my waist, dragging me away.

"Hisana!" I recognized Kazuki's voice. "Stop it! He's gone! There's nothing you can do for him now." I ignored him, struggling furiously against the arms restraining me.

"Mitsuo, let go!" I shouted. "You don't understand!"

The sound of flesh striking flesh seemed abnormally loud, like the clap of a bullet being fired. I lifted a hand to my cheek, still stinging from where Kaori's hand had struck it. "Kaori…" I said, stunned.

"You think you're the only one who's hurting? We loved him too! Him and Horio both!" Kaori was shouting, her emotionless veneer completely absent for once. Her eyes were red, and her tears mingled with the blood dripping from an ugly cut on her face. "They were our family too! So don't you dare say that we don't understand!"

"It's not the same," I screamed back. "I'm our doctor! It's my _job_ to heal them and I failed! I failed! I couldn't save them! What use am I if I can't even do that?" I was crying now, eyes blotchy and choking on mucus, throat closing up.

"You're our doctor," Mitsuo spoke up, voice edged with pain but unwavering and steady. "And you failed in saving them. But we failed as well." Kazuki nodded, jaw clenched.

"We're the backup. You've never taken on the role of a fighter, but we…we should have been able to stop them from getting hurt in the first place." He looked away. "I couldn't stop Horio from rushing in and getting himself killed and I should have been there to stop that bastard before…before…" Kaori laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"None of us are free from blame," she said, looking me in the eye, "But the fault doesn't lie completely with us either." Her eyes hardened. "And we made sure that their killers regretted it."

"Come on," Mitsuo said softly. "I'll take Tatsuya and Kazuki can take Horio. Let's go home."

* * *

Funerals in the Spirit World were different than funerals in the living world. For one thing, souls were composed of reishi, spirit particles, meaning that after a period of time they would simply…evaporate, and their particles would join the others making up Soul Society. Maybe someday, the spirit particles that had made up Horio and Tatsuya would be reincarnated into new souls. It could be years before they were reincarnated, if ever, but looking into the flames as they devoured the two coffins in their midst, I couldn't help but hope that somewhere in the living world, two new babies were born.

_Please, Kami,_ I thought, _let them both have another chance at life. Let them be happy. _

"Nee-chan?" I looked down to where Rukia was clutching my hand tightly. She'd hardly let go of it since I'd come back, covered with blood and stumbling in exhaustion. For all her youth, she knew as well as all of us that sometimes people went out and never came back. She'd taken one look at Tatsuya's and Horio's bodies and had known that they'd never wake up again.

"Yes, Rukia?" I asked. "What is it?"

"What—what will happen to Tatsuya-nii and Horio-nii now?" I closed my eyes, suddenly weary. Mature or not, Rukia was still very much a child.

"They'll be reborn someday, given new lives," I answered distantly.

"Do you think we'll ever meet them again?" She questioned, voice small. Pulling Rukia close to me, I bent down and hugged her tightly, burying my face in her hair. "I hope so, imouto. I really hope so."

* * *

"Hey." I looked behind me to see Kazuki leaning against a tree.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, lying back on the ground. It'd been two weeks since we'd lost Tatsuya and Horio and though the sharp pain of loss hadn't dulled, I was starting to get used to it. Sometimes, though, I'd look at Tatsuya's empty futon, or I'd be cooking dinner and automatically turn to yell at Horio to stop stealing food only to find no one there, and the house would just seem _so empty _without Horio's obnoxiously affectionate teasing and Tatsuya's quick, reassuring smile.

"It's getting late. Rukia was getting worried," he replied, walking over and sitting down next to me.

"I just needed to get away for a while," I answered his unasked question. "The forest—it's peaceful."

"And full of hollows," he returned, giving me a reprimanding look, but didn't protest further. "How are you holding up? And don't say you're fine," he added, shooting me a sharp look. "It's obvious you're not."

"Like you're one to talk, Mr. I'm-going-to-get-completely-smashed," I grumbled. "You're lucky I'm nice, or you would've been suffering from hangovers for a _week._"

"Ah," he said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Have I ever mentioned that you're the awesomest person ever? And don't avoid the question." I sighed, mentally saying goodbye to my relaxation time.

"It's just…I killed two people that night," I stated, looking down at my hands. Sometimes, I had to reassure myself that they weren't still covered in blood.

"That's right. I'd almost forgotten—that was your first time killing someone, wasn't it?" He said, before giving me a concerned look. "It's tough, I understand, and affects some people worse than others. You know you can talk to us, right? None of us will think any less of you for being bothered by it. A first kill isn't something to be taken lightly."

"I'm not bothered by it." I stated truthfully. Because I wasn't. Not at all.

And that's what really disturbed me.

Because I was a doctor and once upon a time, the idea of killing someone wouldn't have even occurred to me. Of course, in Inuzuri it was only a matter of time, but I'd always imagined that it'd be a last resort, self-defense, and that I'd be wrecked by guilt afterwards. Not once had I imagined that it'd be so easy.

Because in those awful moments of silence after Horio had crumpled to the ground, I hadn't hesitated to strike out with lethal force. And after seeing Tatsuya fall, blood dripping from his mouth, I hadn't hesitated when it came to dealing the killing blow. At that moment, straddling my opponent with my hands on his chest, all I could think about was that these people had taken two comrades, two friends, two _brothers_ from me and I hadn't hesitated in using my reiatsu to stop his heart.

And that scared me, more than anything else. Because I was Yukimura Hisana, once Dr. Christina Dalton, and I was supposed to keep people alive. I wasn't supposed to feel a vindictive sense of satisfaction after seeing the pained expression on my captor's face when I'd stabbed him. I was supposed to feel remorse after stopping someone's heart, not a vague sense of regret that I hadn't made the death more painful. I wasn't supposed to take _pleasure_ in the loss of a life.

"It's just…I hadn't realized how much I'd changed," I said finally. Kazuki looked at me for a long time.

"You know, it's only human to want to take revenge," he said. "You're not a monster just for being happy the people who took away your loved ones are dead." He reached into his yukata, taking out a thin, sharp knife I'd recognize anywhere, and handed it to me. My breath caught and my hand shook as I wrapped my fingers around the dagger's hilt.

"Tatsuya's dagger…why?" I asked, looking up with widened eyes. A bittersweet smile touched his lips, edged with something like pride.

"Keep it. He would have wanted you to have it." He got up and started walking away. "Take care of it, you hear?" I smiled slightly before getting to my feet and following, hearing the unspoken words. _Look after yourself. It's what Tatsuya would have wanted. _

_Author's Note: I hope I kept the reactions somewhat realistic…please comment!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Wow, you guys are awesome! I think you more than tripled the amount of reviews—I honestly love you guys. Sorry this chapter took so long to get out; everything's been kind of crazy with school starting up again. Hopefully this chapter doesn't disappoint; it's been kind of weird getting back into the flow of the story. Again, I'd love to hear what you think!_

Fifty Years Later

I exhaled heavily, wiping my forehead with a piece of cloth, grimacing when it came back damp with sweat. Wearily, I stood up and looked down at the pale, thin form of my patient. Still weak, yes, but at least the fever had broken. Diseases, while much less common than in the living world, still existed among spirits.

"How is she? Will she recover?" The man sitting next to her asked anxiously. Smiling tiredly, I nodded.

"She'll be fine, Mori-san." I handed him a pouch full of herbs I'd collected in the forest. "Take a pinch of that and boil it in water. The herbal tea should soothe her cough. Make sure she drinks it twice a day, every day for at least two weeks. Have her drink lots of fluids and get lots of rest. I know food is sometimes hard to come by, but that's important too." Mori rose to his feet in relief.

"Both myself and my daughter are in your debt, Hisana-sensei. Here, take this." He handed me a bottle of sake. "My best sake. And of course, everything will be on the house whenever you or your family stop by the bar."

"You and I both know that I don't do this for the payment," I said softly.

"We may be Rukongai, but we have our pride too. My door is always open to you should you need it." He replied warmly. "Not everyone would do what you do."

I smiled, but didn't protest further. Perhaps, once upon a time, I could afford to turn down peoples' aid when I knew they were barely struggling by themselves. However, as it was, only a fool would turn down favors when they were so freely given.

Walking down the street, I absently twirled Tatsuya's dagger in one hand. It was rarely needed anymore; no one wanted to attack the only doctor who not only was willing to heal any patient brought to her, but also didn't ask any questions and kept patient confidentiality.

"What would you think, Tatsuya, Horio, of me now?" I murmured. These past few decades had certainly been unexpected. When I'd first decided to offer my healing services to the general public, Kaori and Kazuki had thought I was crazy. Even Mitsuo had disapproved, worrying that I might attract the attention of some gang who'd try to recruit me for their own purposes.

"Having above average levels of reiatsu is uncommon, but certainly not unheard of. Having your level of control over it? It just attracts attention," he'd argued. I remained undeterred; the helplessness I'd felt the night we'd lost two of our own wasn't something easily forgotten. Up until then, I'd gotten by just practicing healing using my reiatsu on the members of my family when they were hurt. Unfortunately, I had next to no idea on how to treat diseases, internal injuries and any of the more serious afflictions…and Tatsuya and Horio had paid for it. It had started with a prostitute I'd found who'd had a bad experience with a customer. She'd had deep bruises covering her neck and arms, her right wrist was sprained, and there was blood staining the inside of her thighs. I'd nearly left her there, tossed to the side in a dirty alleyway, but I'd hesitated. Rape and murder wasn't an uncommon sight and if you wanted to survive Rukongai without breaking, you had to accept that you couldn't save everyone. In the early days, before Tatsuya, the only reason I'd managed to keep my mind intact was because I'd been entirely focused on saving Rukia, blocking everything else out. There were those who were broken by their own kindness, unable to stomach the mercilessness of the slums and who slowly wasted away. Then there were those who threw away their hearts, their values, for a chance at survival and power. They became little more than hollows, forged from desperation and a savage determination not to die. And then there were the lucky ones, like me, who found something to cling to, a reason to get up every day. First Rukia, then Tatsuya, then Horio, Kazuki, Kaori and Mitsuo. Two of them were lost to me in a single day, and until then, I hadn't quite comprehended just how important these six people had become in my life, how central they were to maintaining my sanity. I had failed my family once due to my incompetence, and it'd cost me nearly everything. So when I walked past the pitiful, broken figure huddled in a corner like discarded trash, I hesitated. Then, I'd walked over, pulled her to her feet and walked her back to my house.

It was supposed to be an opportunity, nothing more. A surefire way of gaining medical experience, since there was definitely no shortage of people with health problems in Inuzuri. At first, everything went as expected. I did my best to lessen the girl, Reiko's, pain and heal the vaginal tearing. Two days later, she recovered enough to leave and thanked me. A week later, she brought me a second patient: Fumiko, a girl who looked no older than twelve. Soon, I had a steady stream of customers from the red light district, most of them whores, some offering payment in money, others in favors. I didn't really think much of any of it until three months later, when Rukia went missing. Usually, she was pretty good about behaving, but she was still a curious child and sometimes 'got lost.' Kaori, Mitsuo and I ran around frantically for four hours looking for her, while Kazuki (the one watching her at the time) sat around guiltily at home in case she turned up there. Just as the sun was setting, Fumiko showed up bemused at our front door, an abashed Rukia in hand, saying that she'd found Rukia playing with some kids by the river. It was after thanking Fumiko profusely and giving Rukia the scolding of her life (who knew Mitsuo had it in him?) that Kazuki first realized the potential of me 'playing doctor', as he called it.

And so, Inuzuri's first and only medical clinic was born. Any form of payment was acceptable, be it in cash, information, food, services, even favors.

At first I was skeptical. But then, as months passed, things began to change. Stealing had turned into more of a hobby for Kaori than a necessity; turns out, giving the old vegetable vendor a salve that soothed arthritic pains ensured a steady supply of fresh vegetables. Treating the butcher's son when he accidentally cut himself with a knife guaranteed a cut of meat, every week. The seamstress two streets down now greeted me with a smile and an offer to repair my clothes instead of a glare. Not all of my dealings were so innocent though. Since I'd made it a point to be a neutral party, even most of the gangs left me alone. Maybe some of them would have tried to 'recruit me for their own purposes', as Mitsuo put it, but then they risked pissing off every other gang I helped. Sure, I'm certain some of them at least considered forcing me to work solely for a single group, but then they a. risked alienating me, b. risked losing some men to a protective Mitsuo, Kaori and Kazuki, and c. risked getting into a fight with every other group who disagreed with their idea. One of the first things I'd learned was, sometimes the threat of something was more effective than any action. As it was, by the time I'd been offering my medical services for a year, I'd somehow gained sanctuary for myself and my family from nearly every yakuza/criminal group in Inuzuri. They paid me in immunity and protection, and to me that was worth more than any amount of cash or favors. Perhaps it was cold of me, offering my help so freely to people I _knew_ were the scum of the earth, people who had lied, betrayed, raped and killed without hesitation or remorse. But really, all I cared about was that by doing so, I was preventing _my_ people from suffering the same.

Humming to myself, I headed towards the nicer areas of Inuzuri. Five years ago, I'd saved the life of a rich merchant and he'd gifted me with one of his many houses in return. Kazuki looked up as I walked in, and his face split into a giant grin at the sight of the bottle in my hands.

"Is that what I think it is?" He asked excitedly, reaching out for it. I smacked his hands away.

"Yep, Mori-san's best sake. And for Kami's sake, have a little shame, will you? It's six in the morning." He pouted, and I sighed exasperatedly.

"I've told you, not in front of Rukia!"

"Rukia's not even here! Besides, you can't shelter her forever! And she's not stupid, she's seen us drinking before."

"Doesn't mean I want her to pick up your bad habits, you alcoholic. If you must, go over to Mori-san's place tomorrow. He's given us a free pass." Kazuki stared at me in amazement, before shaking his head wryly.

"Somehow, I'm going to figure out how you do that."

"Do what?" I headed towards the kitchen, opening a cabinet to try and find a place to stash the sake.

"Just manipulate people like that!" He demanded.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I replied calmly, shuffling the half empty bottles at the front of the cabinet.

"You don't even ask them for anything, and they give it to you anyway! They practically pile free stuff on you, and beg you to ask for more!" Kazuki's voice was incredulous. "Hell, it's only gotten worse over the years. In the beginning, it was a couple fruits and vegetables, maybe a few ryo. Now it's an open invite to help yourself to anything they have."

"Well, saving their loved ones might have had something to do with it," I replied dryly. "If someone saved Rukia, I'd offer everything I could to them too."

"You have a point…still, it's kind of creepy how I get bombarded with free goods every time I walk down the street just because they know I'm close to you. These are the people who I've seen walk past a child collapsed in the streets without hesitating, and they practically fall over themselves to offer you help."

"You're exaggerating," I huffed, but couldn't help remembering the winter before I'd met Tatsuya, the dozens and dozens of people who'd shut their doors in my face when all I'd wanted was a scrap of food and a place to sleep.

"Offering gifts out of gratitude is _not_ falling all over me. Besides, guilt is a powerful emotion. It's one thing for you to receive help from someone, knowing that the only reason they're helping is because they're getting something out of it. It's another thing entirely for someone to save your life, to spend hours and hours of their own time helping you, all without expecting a single thing in return." Kazuki was silent for a moment.

"So…by _not_ demanding payment, you're practically ensuring that you _do_ get something out of it?" He asked. I smiled.

"Exactly. Whenever someone helps another person, it creates a sense of obligation. No one likes the feeling of owing someone, after all; that doesn't change, whether you're a noble or a street rat. Most of the time, that obligation is relatively easy to fulfill; you do something for me, I do something for you. By not asking anything in return, that sense of obligation is much harder to get rid of."

Of course, most of this had only occurred to me later. When I started this whole thing with Reiko, I'd never expected such a turnout. Still, it sounded much more impressive if I made it seem like this was my plan all along.

"Wow, I'm impressed. Even Tatsuya was never this devious." His voice was briefly wistful. Half a century later and Tatsuya's death still leaves a gaping, empty hole in our lives. "'Course, it helps that you're such a cute, little midget. No one would expect someone as nice-looking as you to be so manipulative."

Perhaps at one time that comment would have bothered me. However, I understood it to be the compliment it was, coming from Kazuki. After what happened fifty years ago…we'd all changed. At times, without Horio there to lighten the atmosphere, things would be unbearably tense between us. All of us had come to blows at one time or another. Without Tatsuya's leadership, the year after was hard. We'd all foundered, unsure of what to do, and eventually it settled on Kazuki to step up and take charge, though he'd never quite managed the same level of control as Tatsuya. Leadership had…changed him. On the surface, he was the same as ever, with the same lighthearted and cheerful demeanor and constantly cracking jokes. However, he'd gained a ruthlessness that even Tatsuya at his worst would be hard pressed to match. He never let Rukia see any hint of it but as for me…well, Rukia may have missed the blood staining his clothes at times—none of it his- but I didn't. Even I didn't know the extent of what Kazuki did, the things he did to gather information and keep us safe. What I did know was that on the second year anniversary of Horio and Tatsuya's deaths, Mitsuo, making sure Rukia wasn't close enough to hear, whispered in my ear, "It's done. Their souls can finally rest in peace now." Looking at the serious but relaxed glint in Kazuki's eyes that his grin couldn't quite mask, the subtle way he was supporting his left side, and the dark circles under his eyes, I didn't have any doubt as to what Kazuki had been doing for the past few months. I didn't know how, or when, but I knew that there wouldn't be a single man alive from the group that had taken two brothers away from me. Then, after I started my clinic, I wasn't naïve enough to think that the risk of angering other people was the only reason I was left relatively alone from the more morally skewed groups. I'd been prepared for some people had come after me, if only because at some time or another I'd probably treated one of their enemies. That they hadn't…well…that was telling in itself.

Kazuki wasn't the only one who'd changed. Perhaps my way of coping with what happened was the most obvious, what with the way I'd taken to healing random people. As a consequence of that night, killing to protect my family was also no longer something I hesitated over. But Kaori had withdrawn even further into herself. Sometimes, I worried that she'd leave us completely, though she was always better around Rukia and Kazuki (and I had my suspicions about the latter; 'just friends' really, did they think I was blind?). Mitsuo was constantly worried about us, hovering like a silent, protective shadow; 'mother-hen syndrome' as Kazuki put it. He was probably the only one out of us who really knew what Kazuki got into, following him whenever he disappeared, sometimes for days.

Shaking my head to clear it of thoughts, I turned to Kazuki.

"Where's _is _Rukia?" I asked, lying down on my futon. I sighed in contentment, grabbing a blanket and pulling it over myself. Forget boys; my bed was my one true love. Kazuki snorted at my happy expression.

"Honestly, I have never known anyone to love sleep as much as you do. Which makes your choice of profession all the more confusing." I stuck my tongue out at him. He sighed, palming his forehead, though I caught a grin forming at the corner of his mouth. "And to think, I just complimented you on your deviousness. Almost seventy years later and your maturity level hasn't changed."

"Only around you guys, Kazuki," I returned with a bright grin. "Around everyone else I'm gentle, selfless, calm and _certainly_ not childish or manipulative."

"That's the scariest part of it. Anyway, Rukia's staying over with those friends of hers. You know, the stupid looking kid with the red hair shaped like a spiky pineapple. Ren-something."

"Careful, your big brother instincts are showing," I snorted. "And it's Renji, dumbass. You've only known the kid for, what, a decade now?"

"Eight years," he corrected sullenly. "And can you blame me? Have you seen the looks of that kid? The only way things could get any worse would be if he had tattoos or something." At this, I abruptly started coughing. Kazuki stared at me concernedly. A mental image popped into my head of Kazuki's expression should he ever meet future-Renji, and I started wheezing, covering my mouth to hide my smirk.

When Rukia had first dragged mini-Renji through the door eight years ago, I'd almost had a heart attack. My memories of the Bleach-verse may have been blurry, despite my best efforts, but there were only one red-haired kid with an awful haircut who was friends with Rukia that I was aware of. After I got over my shock, I'd found that mini-Renji was actually kind of…adorable. I'd always had a bit of a soft spot for kids, only compounded by raising Rukia on my own, so I had to admit even my cold, shriveled, black heart melted a bit at seeing the kid stuttering and shyly avoiding my eyes, trailing after Rukia like a love-struck puppy. From what I remembered, Renji had always stood by and cared for canon-Rukia, so I had no problem with him and Rukia becoming friends. Kaori had the same soft spot for kids that I did, and Mitsuo, after staring intensely at Renji for several minutes during which the poor kid had started shaking and sweating but had stood his ground, also gave his approval.

Kazuki, for some reason, hated the kid on sight.

"I don't get why you dislike him so much." I commented, shifting my pillow into a more comfortable position. "And don't give me that crap about 'kids like him being after only one thing.' Sixty five years old or not, they haven't even reached puberty yet."

"Yeah, well, excuse me for trying to protect our baby sister's virtue. Don't come running to me when a century down the line, you end up with that idiot as a brother-in-law and a herd of new red-haired nieces and nephews." He grumbled, walking away. I rolled my eyes, pulling my blanket over my head.

Honestly, what a ludicrous idea. As if Renji would be stupid enough to get Rukia pregnant without my express permission.

* * *

It felt like I'd slept for all of two minutes when I was rudely awoken.

"Quit shaking me, Mitsuo," I grumbled. "What's up? Someone better be dying, I swear." His lips quirked.

"It's a definite possibility. Oshiro sent for you. The younger one."

"Again?" I groaned. Oshiro Shigeo, the younger of the Oshiro brothers, was one of the most insufferable, stupid, arrogant dicks that I'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. The only reason no one had offed him years ago was because his brother actually had a competent bone in his body and was powerful enough that no one wanted to piss him off by killing his brother. "What's that idiot want now?" Mitsuo shrugged, and I dragged an arm over my face before sitting up.

"Fine, fine, better get this over with." Walking over to the door, I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and centering myself, before I forcibly relaxed my face, corners of my lips turned up in my customary polite smile. My 'default face #67 for dealing with irritating douchepants,' as Kazuki had once put it in one of his many moments of drunkenness. Kaori had slapped the back of his head, before nodding approvingly in my direction. "I'm proud of you, Hisana. Every girl needs a smile like that so if someone ever crosses you, they won't notice the knife in their back until it's too late."

I opened the door right as the person outside of it was about to knock again. Seeing the nine year old—on the surface at least—kid in front of me, my smile softened into a slightly more genuine one.

"Daiki-kun, how are you?" I asked. Daiki rubbed the back of his head nervously.

"Oshiro-sama sent me to get you, Hisana-sensei. Not sure what he wanted, but he seemed kinda angry."

"Well, let's not keep him waiting, shall we? No need to worsen his mood when he's already grumpy." I grabbed my standard medical basket (bandages, disinfectant, herbs, clean water, etc.) and took the—on the surface at least—9 year old boy's hand and he began leading me down the street. When he took me down a less populated road and stopped in front of a creepy looking warehouse, I raised my eyebrows.

"Well, this is different," I murmured, surprised. I'd been sure that Oshiro Junior wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this.

"Oshiro-sama says to come down to the basement." He shuffled nervously. "I gotta go, Hisana-sama. Oshiro-sama didn't want me coming down."

"That's fine. I'm sure I'll find my way." I reassured him, before heading inside. A growing sense of curiosity made me walk faster. For Oshiro to pick somewhere this far out of the way to meet with me…what was he up to now?

In all honesty, it wasn't too hard to find the room Oshiro was in. All I had to do was follow the sound of Oshiro's grating, nasally voice down a flight of stairs and to the end of a hallway. The door he was in was partially open, and I paused for a moment, taking in the scene inside.

The first thing I noticed was the person huddled on the floor, leaning against a wall. I couldn't see his face completely, but the way his arms were wrapped protectively around his chest and the heavy, labored way he was breathing suggested cracked, possibly broken, ribs. I caught a glimpse of a dilated pupils—a concussion possibly?—and blood dripped down a cut on his temple. I stilled when I finally noticed the clothes he was wearing. In the dim light, it wasn't immediately obvious, but now that I'd had time to take a bit more in, I could see that he was wearing a black shihakusho. Looking around, I confirmed my suspicions by sighting a beautiful katana by Oshiro's side. What the hell was Oshiro doing with a Shinigami? An injured, bound Shinigami at that?

Though, I had to concede, finally looking over at Oshiro, that bit probably wasn't his fault. On the other side of the room were four other injured men. One of them looked like he'd been stabbed; the other three were suffering from blood loss caused by lacerations. Oshiro was currently yelling at the one who looked the least injured.

"The hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you've done?" I'd never seen Oshiro so furious…or so scared. His face was pasty and there was a gray edge to his skin. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"We thought we'd take 'im for ransom! Look at pretty boy over there; ain't no way he's poor. His family's definitely got money, might even be a noble!"

"He's a Shinigami, idiot! You think they'll let this go? You kidnapped one of their own! We'll be lucky if we get through the night without our throats being cut!" He began pacing furiously. "How did you worthless idiots even manage to win against him?"

"Found him at the edges of the forest. Looked like a hollow attack. The rest of 'em were dead. He was alive, barely, and we thought he'd fetch a nice little price. He still managed to put up a hell of a fight, though." The man looked sullen. "Where's Sensei anyway? These cuts hurt and Ueno over there looks like he's gonna keel over soon." I was actually considering turning back around and leaving those suicidal idiots to bleed to death, professionalism be damned. Who was stupid enough to kidnap and ransom a Shinigami, and an important one too, by the quality of his clothes? _Everyone_ knew that you didn't mess with Shinigami, because even the most pathetic Shinigami could take out ten of the hardest thugs.

"If you didn't decide to do something so stupid, you wouldn't be hurt in the first place, so suck it up!" Oshiro barked. "Look at the situation you've forced me into! I can't let him go; the second I do, he'll lead the rest straight to us. Can't bribe him, either, since he had more pocket money on him than I see in a month." Oshiro's muttering was becoming more and more desperate. "Can't let him go…but what do I do with him? If I kill him…but what if they come looking for him?"

"If you kill me, my family will never let this go. They will hunt down every last one of you." A quiet voice came from the corner of the room. I almost jumped; though his words were slightly slurred, the way he spoke—cultured, smooth, with just a touch of arrogance and disdain—instantly eliminated the possibility of him being a member of the working class. Definitely a noble, then. From the way Oshiro's features twisted, he'd noticed too. Unfortunately, the threat backfired.

"Oh yeah? But the dead have no way of talking, and even the Shinigami can't read minds. They'd never be able to prove I did it." He tossed back smugly, brandishing a knife under the Shinigami's chin. The Shinigami raised his head a fraction of an inch, and in that moment, I didn't need to be a mind-reader to know what he was thinking. Those cold, gray eyes held the promise of a world of pain, a lifetime of retribution. They said, _Do you really think proof matters? My people will come for me, they will avenge me, and they will tear Rukongai apart if need be._ I believed him, and that decided my next course of action.

"Oshiro-sama," I said quietly. "You called for me?" I looked him in the eye; dignified, but not challenging; posture respectful, but not submissive. It was something I'd mastered over decades of dealing with drug lords, yakuza bosses, people who could kill me in a heartbeat. Make them feel important, but never let them feel like they have power over you. Most of all, make them address you as an equal. I made a show of quickly glancing around the room, eyes lingering slightly on the injured form of the Shinigami, like I hadn't just spent the past ten minutes eavesdropping. "Is something the matter?"

"Ah, Sensei," He stood back up. "As you can see, a bit of trouble has come up, but it's nothing you need to worry your pretty head about." I smiled placidly, trying not to grit my teeth. "I do apologize for taking up your time, but a few of my members have gotten into a bit of a skirmish. If you don't mind?"

"No need to apologize, Oshiro-sama. It is always a pleasure to be of help." I answered, making my way over to the man with the stab wound, hands already glowing green. From the corner of my eye, I saw the Shinigami abruptly stiffen, eyes widening. It took about an hour for me to heal everyone to the point that they at least wouldn't die. Few people knew the extent of my healing ability; as far as the rest of Inuzuri was concerned, I could usually only heal people to the point where the wound would become non-fatal, and I was determined to keep it that way. Why waste reiatsu, after all? After I finished bandaging the last man's arm, I turned to Oshiro hesitantly.

"What of the Shinigami, Oshiro-sama?" I asked.

"Rest assured, Sensei, he will be taken care of. Thank you again for your services," he said in a clear dismissal. I hesitated, bracing myself.

"If I may offer a suggestion, Oshiro-sama?" I asked, keeping my voice steady. Asking would be a risk; there was nothing men like Oshiro hated more than having someone question their judgment. He narrowed his eyes, but motioned for me to go on.

"Disposing of him as he is might be…unwise." There was no question of Oshiro deciding to dispose of the Shinigami. Even if I hadn't been listening in, to beat up a Shinigami when he was down, kidnap him, tie him up and then let him go would be tantamount to suicide. There was no way Oshiro could let the Shinigami go if he wanted to remain living.

"If I may, I have another idea," I continued, seeing the way Oshiro stiffened in anger. "I presume that your men found him after a hollow attack?" At seeing Oshiro's nod, I went on. "If he were killed by you, no doubt the Shinigami would investigate his disappearance. Should they discover his death, they would most certainly seek retribution. Even if they don't discover your hand in it, Oshiro-sama, you could be caught in the backlash of his family's anger. For him to die by the hand of a Rukongai citizen would invite all of Seireitei's anger." I took a deep breath and stared him evenly in the eye, showing none of my inner turmoil.

"However, if he were to have died, in, say, a hollow attack, the same hollow attack that killed off the rest of his squad, it's likely that no one would question it further. After all, while deaths caused by hollows are…unfortunate, they are not uncommon." At first, Oshiro didn't understand. Then his eyes widened, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head.

"Are you saying…yes, that could work…it would be much less risky and suspicious." He turned back to me. "Sensei, could you make it appear as if he was killed by a hollow?"

My smile turned cold, an edge of cruelty tainting it. "Please, I am a professional. To fake the cause of death would be child's play."

* * *

Oshiro had two of the men who'd found the Shinigami take him with me to the area where they'd found him. Taking in the demolished trees and the blood painting the forest, I raised an eyebrow, but otherwise showed no reaction. Turning to the men who'd dragged the Shinigami around, I instructed them to place him against a fallen tree.

"That will be all, thank you." I dismissed them. They exchanged startled looks. "Unless you'd like to watch?" I asked sweetly, fingering the hilt of the Shinigami's sword (Oshiro wasn't happy about having to part with it, but I'd convinced him that it was necessary for the charade to be plausible. Plus I'd seriously doubted the sword would work for him) when they made no move to leave. My smile showed just a bit too much teeth to be classified as friendly. In other words, leave now or the next time I treat you for something I will use a bottle of sake to disinfect each and every one of your wounds. The two exchanged another glance, gulped, hastily backed away and walked off while trying very hard not to seem like they were running away. The moment they were out of sight and hearing distance, the smile on my face transformed into a disgusted grimace. "Cowardly scum," I muttered under my breath before turning to the Shinigami sitting stone-faced on the ground. He hadn't spoken since we'd left the warehouse. I had to give it to him; even under threat of impending death, he still managed to maintain his air of you-are-so-far-beneath-me-you-should-be-honored-I-even-glance-your-way-you-plebeian-scum. I glanced at him and my respect went up another two notches. With his concussion, blood loss and the cracked-likely-broken ribs impairing his breathing, he should have been unconscious hours ago. Instead, he was glaring white-hot daggers at me. Sighing inwardly, I pulled out Tatsuya's dagger.

"You don't know much about hollows if you think you can recreate hollow-induced injuries with that tiny knife," he scoffed. I barely resisted rolling my eyes. Barely. He stiffened and a brief flash of panic entered his eyes as I knelt down next to him, raised my knife and…cut through the rope tying his hands together. The logical course of action, obviously, was to incapacitate me and take my knife away. Instead, he was so stunned that the only thing he could do was gape at me for several seconds. Then he scrambled away, jaw working furiously as he tried and failed to articulate himself. I watched as his aristocratic mask shattered completely with a growing sense of amusement before he managed to compose himself enough to cough some words out.

"What…why…you were just about to kill me!" He shouted.

"Contrary to how it might look, I am not, actually, in the habit of killing people in cold blood." I said wryly.

"But why? You could have gotten away with it…probably," he grudgingly admitted.

"It is nice to know that you have a higher opinion of my intelligence than you do of Oshiro's. And as for why? Why not? I told Oshiro that I'm a professional—well, I'm a healer. I don't like seeing people get hurt for no reason, especially when I can prevent it." I shrugged and left it at that. The real reason was that the last thing I wanted was for a bunch of Shinigami to come storming Inuzuri looking for revenge on behalf of the person sitting in front of me. They would tear the district apart, with no regard for who got caught in the backlash, and how would I be able to protect Rukia and the others then?

"I could have killed you," the Shinigami pointed out. This time I really did roll my eyes.

"You have a mild concussion, are suffering from blood loss, have seriously damaged ribs, and your breathing is impaired. I seriously doubt you'd go to the effort of trying to harm me when a. you're so injured and b. I just saved your life. And I was right, wasn't I? We've been talking for five minutes and you haven't reached for your sword once." I handed his sword back to him and stood up, pretending I didn't notice the way he instantly relaxed once he had it in his hand. "Anyway, it's getting late. I can't do much for your injuries right now, but I'll leave some of these bandages with you. If I'm correct, you Shinigami have your own way of contacting help, correct?" I glanced over to see him nod stiffly.

"I can summon a Jigokucho to get back up. I…if there's anything I can do for you…I'm in your debt."

"If you want to repay me, don't come back seeking retribution on Oshiro." He started to protest, and I shook my head firmly. "Don't. If it got out that I helped you, things could get difficult for me. My neutrality is what keeps me safe most of the time, and it gives me a bit of leeway in dealing with certain people. If anyone finds out that I violated that neutrality..." I trailed off. The Shinigami hesitated, but then seemed to straighten up, staring me resolutely in the eye.

"I don't like it—people like Oshiro should be punished. But if that is your wish, I will abide by it." Once again, I was struck by the utter confidence he portrayed. It was this, more than the well-groomed hair and fine clothes, that gave away his status as a noble—as someone who'd never had to lie, steal, seduce, and kill, someone who'd never lost their honor. Even back in Oshiro's warehouse, covered in grime, sweat and blood, I'd been able to tell instantly that the man in front of me wasn't from Rukongai, had never _really_ been tainted with the dirtier aspects of life. I turned my head away, feeling a bit sad all of a sudden. "Take care of yourself then. Don't let all my hard work go to waste."

It didn't hit me until I got home that night and Rukia launched herself at me excitedly chattering on about her day that I realized why. It was because I'd looked at the Shinigami in front of me, and had seen everything I'd ever wanted Rukia to be. Everything that I could never have.

_Author's Note: Updates will probably be a lot slower from now on, but I will try my best. Sorry with all the time skips, but I didn't think you wanted a play by play of the past fifty years. Guess who the mystery Shinigami was? If you don't know, don't feel too bad, because at the moment Hisana has no clue either. Again, I would love to know what you thought. I hope I kept Hisana's character somewhat realistic and not Mary-sueish. To be fair, she's pretty much the only person in Inuzuri offering medical assistance to anyone who asks for it, so that gives her a bit of leeway. Sorry not a lot of Mitsuo, Kaori or Rukia, but what did you think of Kazuki's characterization? _


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Thanks for all your favorites/follows/reviews (especially the reviews)! They always make me feel warm inside. It's great to have proof that there are actually people out there who enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. Also, to those who were wondering, physically Renji and Rukia are about 10ish. Hisana and Byakuya are about 18-19, and Kazuki, Kaori and Mitsuo are in their mid to late twenties. More of healer!Hisana in this chapter—wanted to give all of you a glimpse into what she does. Long chapter this time so enjoy :D.**

"So, I heard from a little birdie that you are one scary bitch," Kazuki said strolling into the kitchen. I didn't bother looking up from the potatoes I was peeling.

"Oh?" I asked, already having an idea of where this was heading.

"Now, I've known you for…about seventy years now. While I can admit that you can do what needs to be done, you're not the type of person who'd go out of your way to murder someone who's never done anything to you." He said, raising his eyebrows. "What really happened? Spill."

"Nothing really happened." When Kazuki continued to stare at me unimpressed, I sighed and continued. He'd get the story out of me one way or another, and really, it wasn't like it was some big secret. "Some Shinigami were sent to deal with some hollows in the area. Most of the Shinigami died, but one survived. A couple of Oshiro's goons found him and wanted to ransom him off. Oshiro was going to kill him, but I decided the potential fallout would be too great, and stepped in. Told Oshiro I was going to kill him and make it look like a hollow did it. Then I let him go. That's it."

"And you just let him go? You didn't worry that he would retaliate against you?" Kazuki's voice had gone dangerously smooth. I pinned him with a flat stare.

"I'd just saved his life and he was seriously injured. What, you think he was going to just jump up and start beating the crap out of me?" Kazuki still looked mildly doubtful, but seemed mostly appeased.

"At least you didn't heal him. It makes me nervous, sometimes, that you'll put your faith in the wrong person, help them, and get stabbed in the back for it."

"Give me some credit, Kazuki," I rolled my eyes. "I didn't think he was going to harm me after I'd just saved his life, but I wasn't going to take any chances either. And Shinigami or not, he wasn't about to unnecessarily attack someone in the condition he was in." Healing someone when I wasn't sure about their intentions towards me would just be stupid. Kazuki relaxed at my words.

"Good. At least you've learned something this past half-century." He said lightly. "Now I've just got to find a way to teach this same cautiousness to Rukia. Did you know that Rukia actually had to save that pineapple-idiot from getting beat up when he got caught stealing something? Couldn't she have chosen someone a bit more intelligent to be her boyfriend? Like, seriously. If he can't steal properly, he should at least know how to run away, but it seems like he can't do that either. How the hell does Kaori approve of him?"

"He's not her boyfriend, you overprotective moron. And I pretty much sucked at stealing too before Kaori came along."

"But you'd only been in the Spirit World for a couple months!" He shouted indignantly. "And even then, at least you knew how to run away and not get caught! That red-headed baboon can't even do that! He needs a _girl_ to bail him out!"

"Are you saying there's something wrong about girls? I do hope you're not implying that girls are weak." My smile was saccharine sweet. He shook his head frantically.

"Are you kidding? I've lived with you and Kaori for over six decades. Of course I know that girls aren't weak. Doesn't mean that real men should _need_ to be bailed out by girls." I shook my head resignedly, but decided to let it go. I doubted that Kazuki actually believed what he was saying; he was just taking any opportunity he could to bash on Renji.

"How did you find out about that, anyway?" I changed the topic, scowling at him. It was kind of creepy, sometimes, the number of tabs Kazuki had on each of us. I knew it was his way of showing he cared, but even Kaori had to admit Kazuki's stalker-like tendencies were…disturbing at times.

"Honestly," I grumbled, "I don't see why you go on about me having magical people-charming powers when you can get people to spill their every secret in minutes. How do you do that?" Immediately, I regretted asking as a roguish grin lit his face and he stepped forward so his chest was against my back. Wrapping his arms around me, he bent down so that his lips were at my right ear and his breath tickled the hairs at the nape of my neck.

"Wouldn't you like to know, _Hisana-chan_? If you like, I could provide a…demonstration." He murmured, voice low and rumbly. I shoved him off and threw a half-peeled potato at him.

"Shoo. That's disturbing, you know that? Go bother someone who _doesn't_ think of you as their brother and who'll actually appreciate your charms. I hear Kaori's free." His face turned blank.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied stonily. I raised my eyebrows, lips slipping into a teasing grin. "Come on, _Kazuki-kun._ Who are you trying to fool? I could cut the sexual tension between you two with a knife. _Everyone's_ seen you two eye-fuc—"

The kitchen door opened, and Rukia slipped in. "Nee-chan! You won't believe what happened to Renji today!"

"—eye-friending each other." I finished without skipping a beat, smirking. Kazuki looked at me incredulously, mouthing, 'Eye-friending, really?' I shrugged in return.

Rukia looked between us, confused. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Nothing. Just how Kazuki and your Kaori-nee-san should get a clue…or a room," I muttered the last part under my breath. Rukia's eyes lit up in understanding.

"Oh! You mean how Kazuki-nii-san and Kaori-nee-san are 'special friends' but don't really know it yet?" She asked.

"Exactly," I beamed, ignoring Kazuki's sputters in the background.

"What—you—man, I hate it when you two gang up on me like this!" He whined. I turned back to my potatoes, smothering a grin. "Two against one—how is that fair?!"

"Life isn't fair, you big baby. Get over it." I shoved some carrots and a knife at him. "Now make yourself useful and start peeling these." Looking at Kazuki grumbling sullenly as Rukia snuck up behind him holding a spider by a leg and wearing a mischievous grin, I felt a sudden wave of fondness. A lot had changed these past few decades, but we'd always stay a family. That, I decided, would _never_ change.

* * *

I woke up with a startled jerk, almost tumbling off my bed. It took me another few seconds to realize it was due to the loud banging at the door. Next to me, Rukia mumbled sleepily before opening her eyes blearily.

"Nee-chan? Was'appening?" She asked, still half asleep. I knelt down next to her and gently brushed the hair out of her face.

"Probably just another patient. Don't worry about it; just go back to sleep." I said softly.

"Do you haveta go? It's the middle of the night." She complained. "You're always busy these days."

"Sorry." A corner of my lips quirked up. "Duty calls. I'll be back in the morning, ok?" Bending down, I pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before walking swiftly to the door, erasing all traces of sleep from my face as I did so. I didn't see any of the others as I walked out; by this point, all three of them had learned to ignore it when a patient showed up halfway through the night. The person at the other side of the door stopped mid-knock as I opened it.

"Reiko," I said, pausing at the sight of the woman in front of me. The first patient outside of my family I'd ever treated. Usually she didn't come to me unless it was serious.

"Sensei," she replied, grinning, though her tone seemed strained. Though her smile was relaxed, the tension in her shoulders betrayed her worry. "Sorry ta bother you at such an awful hour, but one of the new girls—Miwa—she's hurt. One of her regular customers gets carried away at times, but she can't refuse him." In other words, he was someone too important to risk offending.

I clenched my jaw, but nodded in understanding. Unfortunately, this kind of thing was way too common for me to be surprised anymore. Grabbing my supplies, I followed Reiko down the all-too familiar path to the red-light district. Slipping in the back door, I nodded a greeting to the Mother in charge of the brothel.

"She's in the second to last room on the right." She said, ushering me down the hall. "Thank you for doing this, Sensei."

"Anytime," I replied, then stiffened when I caught sight of the girl sitting limply on a couch. The girl—Miwa—couldn't have been more than thirteen years old physically, and judging by the blank, empty look in her eyes and the tear tracks running down her face, hadn't been in the afterlife long.

"Miwa-chan?" Reiko called softly from next to me. I couldn't remove my eyes from the frail-looking, thin _child_ with the defeated posture. Like a beautiful porcelain doll with cracks lying just beneath the surface, unable to be repaired. My eyes lingered at the ligature marks at her wrists and neck and the fresh, purple bruise forming under an eye. Over half a century later and I still couldn't get over the fact that it could be _me_ lying there broken. If I had been forced to spend another year on my own…if Tatsuya hadn't found me…

I shook my head, breaking my train of thought. There was no use ruminating on what-ifs or could-have-beens. I was lucky; prostitution was never an avenue I had to turn down, and it would never be something Rukia would be forced to turn to either. All I could do now was do my best to help those who weren't as fortunate.

"Reiko, can you go get me some warm water please?" I asked quietly. Miwa still hadn't moved. She nodded, and five minutes later was back with a pail of warm water and some clean towels. Slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a threatened animal, I made my way over to the girl that could have been me in another universe. Making sure to always keep myself in her line of sight, I knelt down next to her.

"Hello, Miwa-chan," I said gently, making my voice as soothing as I could. "I'm Hisana—I'm a friend of Reiko's. I promise I won't hurt you. Won't you look at me?"

I watched as large brown eyes blinked slowly and Miwa gradually turned her face towards mine. Once she was looking me directly in the face, I smiled comfortingly—the same smile I used whenever Rukia woke up from a nightmare—and made sure to look as unthreateningly as possible. She must have seen something that reassured her, since I saw her relax infinitesimally.

"You know Reiko?" She asked, voice small. From the corner of my eye, I saw Reiko move forward.

"Yes I do. She's the one who brought me here, and she's very worried about you." Very deliberately, I reached out an arm and took one of her hands in my own. I took it as a good sign that she didn't flinch away. "Will you give me permission to treat you, Miwa?" I asked, leaving out the cutesy chan honorific on purpose as I did so. If there's one thing I'd learned about rape victims, it was that they needed to feel some semblance of control. For a moment I just looked Miwa in the eye, silently asking her to trust me while doing my best to convey that I would never betray that trust. After what seemed like an eternity, she nodded.

Deciding to start out small, I dipped a small towel into the bucket of warm water, wringing it out so that it was only slightly damp. Raising the warm cloth to Miwa's cheek, I gently wiped away the tears and sweat coating her face, keeping up a steady conversation as I did so.

"Have you ever seen someone use healing kido?" I asked. She shook her head, looking confused but curious. A vast improvement from the empty, lost expression she had on before.

"No. What's that?" She asked. Next to me, Reiko grinned.

"It's the coolest thing ever. You're in for a treat, Miwa-chan," she reassured her, "Sensei does some weird conversion thing with her spirit energy that causes her hands to glow green. Then she puts her hands on wherever you're hurt, and poof! Next thing you know, it's like you've never been hurt at all." I huffed at hearing the logistics of healing kido being reduced to 'some weird spirit conversion thing that made injuries go poof', but had to smile slightly at the fascinated look on Miwa's face. Not so broken after all, then.

"It's a bit more complicated, but that's the gist of it." I said. Reaching into the by now familiar well of power inside me, I coaxed strands of energy towards my hands, infusing it with thoughts of healing, restoration and regrowth. Within seconds, my hands were glowing a soft green. Reaching out slowly, I touched the tips of my fingers gently to the livid bruise forming on Miwa's face, and concentrated on mending the broken capillaries and torn tissue inside. A few minutes later, I leaned back and looked at the now-unmarred skin with satisfaction. I always did a much better job healing those I truly wanted to make better. Manipulating spirit energy, whether to heal or to harm, was all about intent. Easing a little of Miwa's pain certainly made me a lot happier than, say, patching up Oshiro's thugs, but I didn't get to choose my patients.

Once I was done with her face—something that took only a few more minutes, the sicko probably wanted her face mostly untouched—I moved on to the rope marks around her neck, trying my best not to grimace. Kami, I hated those bastards that got off on strangling their partner. Shoving aside the burning anger simmering low in my stomach with practiced ease, I once again coated my hands with green. Infusing Miwa's body with my reiatsu, I could sense, almost feel, every torn tissue, each hemorrhage in the muscle. It left an uncomfortable phantom itch around my own neck, an imaginary echo of the marks around hers. Thankfully, though ligature marks were difficult, they weren't actually all that draining to heal. The whip marks on her back, however, were a different story. By the time I finished healing every single scratch—fuck exhaustion, if Miwa had to deal with lashes and near strangulation, I could deal with a bit of weariness—it was well into the early hours of the morning.

"How do you feel?" I asked, sitting back and wiping a towel over my face tiredly. Miwa brought a hand to her neck with something approaching wonder. "It doesn't hurt anymore." She sat up abruptly. "It felt so strange! Like my skin was tingling, but warm all at once." She glanced at me, eyes shining excitedly. "How did you do that? Can you teach me?"

Glancing over to her from where I was gathering up my supplies, I opened my mouth to gently refuse—as much as I hated it, I couldn't save every girl from prostitution—but paused and looked at Miwa, considering my options. While I was healing Miwa, I'd noticed that she had a higher than average level of reiatsu. Not a whole lot, certainly not as much as me or even Rukia, but enough to be of help when I was treating her. It was a hell of a lot easier to heal someone when I could just guide their own reiatsu to do the job (made me wonder what it would be like to treat a Shinigami). So instead of shooting her down point blank (something she was expecting judging by the downcast set of her eyes and the way her shoulders had slumped), I asked, "Do you ever feel hungry, Miwa-chan?"

Her head shot up, and she sent a confused, but hopeful, glance my way. Meanwhile, Reiko was staring at me speculatively.

"Huh? Well, I guess, sometimes. Not often—like, maybe once a week?—but I do like eating food. Why?"

"If you want, come over to my house for dinner sometime. Reiko can show you the way. If you're still interested, and if you show a talent for it, we'll talk. But for now, just try to get some sleep, okay?" Looking at the way she still tensed whenever I accidentally made a sudden movement and the almost-paranoid way her eyes constantly flickered around the room, I seriously doubted she'd be getting any sleep tonight, or for the next three weeks. From the way Miwa smiled bitterly, she was probably thinking the same thing.

"I'll try. Thank you so much, Hisana-sensei! I'll definitely take you up on that offer. Don't forget!"

"Of course I won't. I'll be looking forward to your visit. Try to take care of yourself, alright? I'd prefer it if the next time I see you, it'll be as a friend, not as a doctor." Offering a last smile to Miwa, who was looking much happier than when I first saw her, I made my way out. Reiko followed me without a word. Just before I left, she spoke up.

"You're seriously considering it, aren't you? Taking her in. You're not so cruel as to get her hopes up for nothing." I was silent for a long moment. To be honest, the idea was beginning to seem more and more appealing the longer I thought about it. Training an apprentice would be satisfying, certainly, and reassuring as well to know if something ever happened to me, someone would be ready to take over. After all, though a lot of things had changed, and I was definitely healthier than canon-Hisana had been at this time, there was always the possibility…I shook that train of thought off and turned back to Reiko.

"It's a definite possibility, yes. These past few years, I've only been getting busier, and there's only so much I can do on my own. And she has the potential to be a great healer." You didn't need massive amounts of spirit energy, after all, to be able to do healing kido. Control was much more important than raw power. Rukia had both the control, and the power for it, and she learned a few tricks easily enough but…not the interest. She was a fighter, not a healer, someone who belonged on the front lines of a battlefield. She excelled brilliantly in her lessons with Mitsuo and Kaori, and nowadays could almost match me in a spar. It wouldn't be long before she surpassed me, surpassed all of us.

"There's little I can do to protect her. Hell, I can't even protect myself half of the time. But if you take her in as your assistant…" Reiko turned to me, eyes suddenly pleading. "No one's gonna risk angering you, Sensei, at least not over some no-name whore. I get that you can't save all your patients and you can't give everyone a way out, but…Miwa's a good girl. She doesn't deserve this life." I looked away, swallowing hard.

"I'll give her the opportunity," I said finally. "What she decides to do with it is up to her."

* * *

I gaped at Kaori's indifferent face, almost dropping the bowl I was washing. After some deliberation, I'd decided to share my thoughts about taking in an assistant with her first. Out of all of us, she was the one who had the hardest time letting new people in, so I thought it was only fair I tell her first. Not only that, but while Tatsuya had been the first person I'd followed unhesitatingly, it was Kaori who'd been my first mentor.

To be honest, I wasn't sure what sort of reaction I'd expected. A blank look of disapproval, maybe. Not a shrug, and a nonchalant, "Sure, fine."

"You're really okay with this?" I asked incredulously. This was Kaori, the person practically embodied the word standoffish.

"What are you waiting for, a written approval?" She asked sarcastically. "Hand me that bowl, will you?" Numbly, I handed it over to her.

"I'm just surprised that you're so…accepting of my idea." I said. "I mean, you haven't even met the girl and you're alright with me practically adopting her?"

"So what if I haven't met her? I hadn't met you either when Tatsuya took you and Rukia in. To be honest, when I first met you, I thought you were a useless, ungrateful burden who'd only hold us back, but I trusted Tatsuya, so when he said he saw something in you, I didn't protest. And he was right, wasn't he? Look at you now." She began drying the bowl in her hand. "So if you say you see something in this kid, who am I to complain?" She paused when I laid a hand on her arm.

"Thanks Kaori," I said softly, "for trusting me."

"Idiot," she grumbled ducking her head, though I saw the tint of red forming on her cheeks anyway, "I spent the past few decades drilling everything I know into your head. If I couldn't trust your judgment after all that, I wouldn't be much of a mentor or a friend, would I?"

* * *

"I'm going to run outside to stock up on some bandages. I've been running low for days. Anything you guys want me to pick up on the way?" I asked.

"Nee-chan, can you get some more sword oil? And maybe another oil cloth?" Rukia asked, perking up. Kaori had finally deemed Rukia competent enough with a sword to get her one of her own, and she'd been obsessively caring for it ever since.

"Of course. But you do know that you don't need to oil it three times a day, right?" Turning to the boy next to her, I asked, "What about you, Renji-kun? Would you like me to pick up anything?" Renji looked nervously over at where Kazuki was glaring death at him, and swallowed hard. I was hard pressed not to roll my eyes; seriously, Kazuki was around a century old already—shouldn't he be a bit more mature? And Renji…I vaguely remembered him being a lieutenant, which was apparently a big deal, so where hell was his backbone?

"Uh…no thanks…I mean, I wouldn't want to be a burden," he mumbled finally. "I don't like mooching off of people."

"Nonsense," I said warmly, "Kazuki makes you do enough work around here that you'd hardly be mooching. But if you insist, at least take some of tonight's leftovers home with you. Now run along; one of my patients told me there's some blueberries growing by the river. You still have a couple hours before it gets dark, but be home well before that, okay?"

"Sweet! Thanks, Nee-chan! I'll bring some back for you!" Rukia grabbed Renji's arm and ran off. I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

"Honestly, Kazuki, you're going to give the poor kid a heart attack someday," I scolded, beginning to clear the dishes.

"I'm just trying to toughen him up a little!" He defended himself innocently. I didn't buy it for a second, but let it go. He had a point, after all, and that guilt complex had to go. I liked the kid too much to want him ending up as someone's bitch in the future. Strangely, the image of a stupid-looking hat and a creepy smile popped into my head.

"You sure you don't want one of us to go with you?" Kazuki asked casually. I looked up frowning; anyone else wouldn't have thought anything of it, but I knew him too well to think that nothing was up. That Mitsuo was watching a bit more closely than he usually would only cemented it.

"I'm fine. It's only a shopping trip after all," I said, studying Kazuki thoughtfully. Cautious, but not wary; so he was unsure of something, but didn't think I was in any real danger? Originally, it had been Kaori who was supposed to do the weekly shopping trip, but the past few days she'd been loaded down with work (a few years ago, since her more…specialized skills were no longer needed, she'd taken up a side job of helping other people manage their affairs and assets—the irony). Kazuki hadn't seemed at all worried about her, though, so either this was a really recent thing or it was something tied to me specifically. Tired of analyzing the issue, I decided to stop dancing around the issue and just ask Kazuki directly.

"What is this about? It's unlike you to be so cautious." I pointed out. Kazuki and Mitsuo exchanged looks before Kazuki shrugged.

"It's nothing big. Probably nothing to worry about…it's just, I've gotten a few different reports from various sources about some guy asking around for you. Well, not you specifically—he didn't seem to know your name, but as far as I know, you're the only short midget who can use healing kido going by 'Sensei' in Inuzuri."

"And?" I didn't see what the big deal was. Most of Inuzuri had probably 'asked around for me' at one point or another. That he didn't know my name suggested he wasn't an inhabitant here, but while somewhat more uncommon, I did get visitors from other districts once in a while.

"He's not from Rukongai, Hisana," Mitsuo spoke up. "All the people I've heard from have agreed on that. No one's told him where to find you, as far as I know, but it never hurts to be careful. If he's a Shinigami who's heard of your abilities and is curious…well, it's probably for the best if you don't run into him."

"I understand," I said, but my mind was whirling. Someone obviously not from the Rukongai, possibly a Shinigami…it'd been over two weeks since the Oshiro incident, but…

"Hisana?" Mitsuo looked vaguely concerned, waving a hand over my face.

"Just thinking," I dismissed my thoughts with a shake of my head. I didn't have enough information to make any inferences, anyway. "I should be fine going alone. It's only six thirty, and I'll be back by nine at the latest. Thanks for telling me this; I'll keep an eye out for any suspicious characters. If it does turn out to be serious, well, I bet I know Inuzuri a hell of a lot better than he does. He'll never find me if I don't want him to." The thought that someone might lead him to me crossed my mind briefly, but was abruptly dismissed. No one was going to exchange lifelong reliable medical service for a few pieces of gold.

Both Mitsuo and Kazuki relaxed, looking slightly more reassured. "You're right about that, at least. Just remember, keep Tatsuya's dagger on you at all times, okay?"

"Of course. Wakanabe-san has a new shipment of books in; I'll look around to see if there's anything interesting for you, Mitsuo."

Heading out the door, I made my way to the still bustling marketplace. Picking up a few new rolls of bandages only took a few minutes, and I headed off to Watanabe's bookshop. There wasn't much, but I picked out a book on different martial arts techniques for Mitsuo and a book on rabbits for Rukia (she had some weird obsession with them). We weren't that low on groceries, since I'd received a basket full of vegetables from a patient a few days ago, so mostly I just browsed around a bit, picking up a few snacks I thought the others would like. At just past eight, I headed off to the fringes of the red-light district to drop off some salves at one of the poorer brothels. I was just about to make my way back, when a commotion at the end of the street made me pause. Quietly making my way over, I stopped under the roof of a nearby building, where the shadows were slightly thicker. The vantage point wasn't that great, but at least I was mostly concealed from sight.

The scene in front of me made me raise my eyebrows. Mai, one of the…bolder prostitutes I knew, was cornering a hooded figure against a wall. One of her hands had slipped under his robe and her chest was thrust out into his face. That…was pretty normal for Mai actually. The way her chosen target was stuttering and trying to shove her off was new though.

At a second glance, I could see why she'd chosen him. Though the quality of his clothes was poor and he was armed, it wasn't hard to see from the way he stood and moved that he was well-bred. That his sword was hidden _under_ his robe spoke of his reluctance to hurt anyone, and the way he flinched every time his hands came anywhere close to Mai's chest screamed 'virgin.' Honestly, I thought somewhat amused, he couldn't have painted a bigger target on himself than if he walked down the street naked with the words 'easy prey' tattooed on his forehead.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me, honey? I promise I'll make it worth your time," Mai was cooing. "I'll teach you _so much._ Even give you a first-time discount! It's not every day I see someone as adorable as you."

"No—I've told you, I'm not interested. Miss, please remove your ha—wait, don't touch there!" He squeaked. That voice…though currently high with embarrassment, I was almost positive it belonged to the Shinigami I'd rescued a few weeks ago. Shifting forwards a bit, I stared harder at him trying to catch a glimpse of his face. It didn't help—the only thing I noticed was that it was an alarming shade of red. Taking a deep breath, while simultaneously shoving her other hand away from his crotch, he continued.

"I've told you, I just want you to help me find this girl."

"Aww, so you've got a crush and you're looking for someone to help you gain experience? Good choice," Mai purred, "Chastity is overrated anyway. Every girl wants a man who knows what they're doing."

"No! That's not what I meant! She saved my life, and I just wanted to—"He huffed, giving up on shoving Mai's hands away. "Look, miss, she has purple eyes, short black hair, and goes around healing people. I've been asking around for _days_ and there's no way _none of you_ have heard of her." Well, there went any chance of him _not_ being the Shinigami I'd met. I hesitated before stepping forward. Sure, he didn't seem like he wanted to hurt Mai, but he was also getting angry and frustrated. Shinigami were dangerous and Mai had been putting herself on the line to protect me. He was looking for me; I couldn't in good conscience just hide away and let Mai deal with him herself.

"You know," I spoke up lightly, "I wasn't sure if I'd ever see you again, but I do admit, I hadn't envisioned our next meeting happening quite like this." Both Mai and the Shinigami froze.

Mai recovered first and flung herself at me. "Sensei!" She said, squeezing me against her chest. Meanwhile, the Shinigami seemed to be in shock. Turning to Mai, I offered her a grateful smile.

"I'll take it from here, Mai." She pouted.

"Aww, and he was such a pretty one too! You're so lucky, Sensei. Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I don't mind sharing if it's with you." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Shinigami shudder and shift so that he was slightly behind me. Hiding my smile, I turned back to Mai. Her eyes were serious and level, and I shook my head, silently acknowledging the message hidden in her words. _Are you sure you'll be okay alone with him? Just say the word and I'll come with you._

"I'm quite sure." She held my gaze for another moment before nodding firmly. Then, before either the Shinigami or I could react, she flung her arms around his neck and pressed a giant, wet kiss to his cheek before skipping off cackling. "See you around, Sensei! And Pretty Boy! Hope it goes well!" She winked at him before blowing a kiss. He blanched, then began frantically wiping his face with his sleeve.

After watching the Shinigami continue scrubbing at his face for several seconds, I spoke up, careful to keep my growing amusement from showing. "This is the, what, second time I've had to rescue you now? Do try to be a bit more careful; I might not be around to save you a third time. What are you doing here anyway?"

Suddenly reminded of my presence, he jumped and winced sheepishly before seeming to remember himself and his face slipped back into its customary aristocratic expression. "My deepest apologies for my rudeness; please forgive my distraction." Turning to face me, he then sank into a formal bow. "I came to Inuzuri seeking your audience in order to extend my sincerest thanks for your kind assis-" I leveled a flat stare at him, cutting him off.

"Drop the formalities. I just saw you get groped; I think we're past that point, don't you?" Motioning for him to follow me, I began walking back down the street. "I've told you before, all I wanted in repayment was your silence on what really happened, particularly my part in the whole affair. As no Shinigami have come tearing through Inuzuri demanding retribution, I'm pretty sure you've fulfilled your part of the deal. Consider us even, then." When he looked about to protest, I shook my head. "Don't. Look, here's a bit of advice. Sometimes, when someone does something nice for you, just accept it. Don't try to force repayment on them. Just thank them, remember what they did, and if the day comes when they need help themselves, pay them back then." I let him think about what I said for a moment, before continuing.

"You said you've been here for days, and it's getting late. Where are you staying?" I asked, looking up towards the sky. The sun had set a while ago; no doubt it was nearing nine, and as I didn't want Mitsuo and Kazuki organizing a search party for me, I really should be back by then. A flash of embarrassment crossed over his face. "I started off staying in an inn, but after I woke up to find half my money missing after the first night, well, I've been camping in the woods using kido barriers as protection." I stared at him for a long time, before whistling, slightly impressed. At least he didn't seem to be one of those prissy nobles who could only fall asleep on silk sheets.

"At least you didn't get all the way robbed. Come on, I'll find you a decent inn where you can stay at. Don't worry about getting robbed again; I'll speak with the innkeeper to make sure you're well taken care of." I paused. "You know, I've met you twice and I still haven't introduced myself." Sketching a short bow, I continued, "I'm Yukimura Hisana, though feel free to call me by my first name. Most people do." Giving permission for people to call me by my first name, I'd found, fostered a sense of intimacy and trust between me and my patients. Eventually, it just became habit to ask people to call me Hisana. Next to me, the Shinigami returned my bow with a slight tilt of his own head.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Yukimura Hisana. My name is Kuchiki Byakuya."

I tripped.

* * *

Omake (How Kazuki and Renji first met)

As he quickly ducked under a table to prevent his target from sighting him, Kazuki vaguely wondered how he'd came to be in this situation. Honestly, he was hiding under a table while stal—_following _Kaori around to make sure her date wouldn't take advantage of her. Like any good big brother would. He didn't have any ulterior motives at all. Really.

_Denial isn't an attractive quality,_ a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Hisana said. _Hiding under a table like a creepy stalker? That's a new low, even for you._ Scowling, Kazuki told the voice to shove it. Like the real Hisana would, the voice ignored him. _This wouldn't be a problem if you'd just grow the balls to ask her out, you know._

"Quiet!" He hissed under his breath. Great, now he was talking to imaginary voices in his head. "They're talking!" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple of kids walk by.

Peeking out from under the tablecloth, he scowled as he saw Kaori's date—Taki-something, he'd never liked that guy—order a bottle of sake. Was he trying to get her drunk? Who started drinking alcohol this early anyway?

_Your hypocrisy is suffocating me,_ snorted imaginary-Hisana. Kazuki's scowl deepened.

"Like you can lecture me on responsible behavior," Kazuki retorted, "You run around at all hours of the night healing random thugs and criminals for _free._" Actually, now that he thought about it, it probably wasn't a good sign that his inner voice of reason was modeled after an annoying, reckless midget who lost her common sense decades ago.

Next to him, one of the kids he'd seen earlier, a red headed brat about Rukia's age, suddenly bumped into a waiter carrying an arm full of dishes. The kid fell to the floor, causing the red-bean paste cakes he'd hidden under his shirt to fall out. The owner marched over, red-faced with rage while the kid on the ground froze in terror. Inwardly, Kaori scoffed. Kids these days; amateurs, all of them. Even Hisana before Kaori's lessons had known that when you were caught, the first thing you did was run. Just before the owner reached him, it seemed the kid's survival instincts finally kicked in and he turned to make a break for it. Unfortunately, he wasn't looking where he was going and crashed straight into the table Kazuki was hiding under, knocking it over before sprinting off. Kazuki froze as suddenly all eyes turned to him.

"Kazuki? What the hell are you doing here? And under a table?" Kaori asked confused. Next to her, Taki-bastard looked torn between glaring daggers at him or falling on his ass laughing. Sweating, he began chuckling nervously. "Hey, I know this looks pretty bad, but I can explain…honest…"

An excruciatingly awkward conversation with Kaori and an even worse lecture by (real) Hisana on why 'hiding under tables creeping on people' was not socially acceptable later, Kazuki laid down on his bed with a pillow held over his face, contemplating how his day had possibly turned out this shitty. Really, there was only one person to blame for all of this.

_I promise you,_ he thought savagely to the red-haired kid who'd single-handedly demolished his dignity, _the next time I see you, I will get my revenge. You will pay for this_.

A week later, Rukia dragged in a red-haired kid, introduced him as Renji and her new best friend, and told everyone to be nice or she'd sneak wasabi into their tea. In his head, imaginary-Hisana laughed at him. _Karma_, she said gleefully to him. _Shut the hell up,_ he replied. _This isn't over. _Right then and there, he made a promise to himself.

_I won't forget this. I may not be able to openly get my retribution without getting my sinuses burned, but I _can_ make your life miserable. Abarai Renji, you have done me a great injustice that cannot be taken back. From this day on, we shall be sworn enemies._

**Author's Note: Oh, Kazuki. Why u no learn? XD. And Hisana, for all she thinks of herself as a cold, pragmatic person, she's still a big softy inside. Just a couple points I wanted to bring up:**

**Seriously considering doing a Byakuya interlude either next chapter or the chapter after that to show what he's been getting up to****. What do you guys think? Honestly, it is so fun messing with him. Yes, he's a very accomplished fighter and can kick ass when it comes to hollows. However, he's also a prude and has never been around a prostitute before (much less one as forward as Mai). **

**What do you think of Miwa? Too many OCs? Did not intend for her character to be so important, but she grew on me over the course of the chapter**.

**Reviews make me update faster!**


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